


A Double-Sided Coin

by ClysprosClockwork



Category: Homestuck
Genre: AAAAAAA, Frequent flashes to the past and character pov switches, King Eridan, Multi, What happened to all the dead characters?, and why is Kankri gone?, bipolarity but I'm not so if you see something wrong please tell me, but what happened to Cronus?, double agent Sollux, it looks like we have another mystery on our hands, so many damn intertwined stories, the divided kingdom of Derse and Prospit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-24
Updated: 2018-08-26
Packaged: 2018-12-19 05:50:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 20,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11891340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClysprosClockwork/pseuds/ClysprosClockwork
Summary: The past is more connected the present than you would think. Eridan Ampora is the pressured young king of Derse, once part of the larger kingdom of Skaia that was split apart by a war long ago. The swiftly growing empire next door, Prospit, is ruled by the tyrannical Condescension. War threatens the borders and unsteady peace even now.Sollux, working as a double agent for both sides, is further connected to the king than he would care to let on. His own conscience and instinct to survive war against each other. A past tragedy in several parts may give insight into what drove them apart...





	1. Chapter 1

He approaches you. 

 

"Hey, ED," He drawls slowly, a smile forming on his face. You look up from your papers, an eyebrow raising at the sight of the tangled, messy hair and know-it-all smirk he so often wears. You slide aside a small stack of papers, running a hand through your own hair. He closed the heavy wooden door to your workroom, letting it fall shut with a heavy thud. You stood, reopening the door and pointing in the direction of the darkened stone hallways. 

 

“Get out,” you say. “I have w-work to do, and your bein’ here isn’t helpin’ me.” He smirks at your ever-present stutter, before turning and walking out.

 

“Thee you later, then, ED.” He uses the nickname he gave you when you were children. It’s hard to believe it’s been that long.

  
  


Your name is Eridan Ampora, and you have command over the army and kingdom of Derse. 

  
  


His name is Sollux Captor. He is a double agent for both Derse and its rival kingdom Prospit. Which is to say, he will assist either side in the gathering of information for a sum of money. 

Although, you don’t know that. You rule the Dersian kingdom with a well-manicured fist of steel, seeking only to destroy the opposing side. 

 

You haven’t gathered much information on Prospit’s ruler, however. This is where Captor comes in. For a previously-agreed-upon sum of money, he is to infiltrate the well-guarded kingdom of Prospit and gather the intel you require. 

  
  


He’s annoying. It’s like he takes every damn second of his time plotting a new way to bother you. It’s almost like every day, every minute he spends gathering his own hand of cards against you, ready to deal out one at a time. And each one has another phrase, another name, another- Another- You bury your face in your hands. It’s getting late. You should probably go to bed. Although you barely sleep anyways. Insomnia has a way of keeping you going, doesn’t it? You collapse into your large bed without pulling down the silken covers. You were exhausted. You stretched your arms behind your head. 

 

But he’s needed. You can’t lie to yourself. You wouldn’t be pulling off this successful of plans without him. You think back to when you two met. You were a little prince back then. You father, King Dualscar, ruled in those times, before he was killed by the neighboring kingdom’s Queen, Her Imperious Condescension. Your life had been a child’s dream. You had everything you wanted before he was killed. Servants ran hot and cold where you lived. 

 

You think back to when you were young. 

  
  


_ That was when you first met him. A small boy, standing alone in the streets. In those times, the king would often have parades in his honor. Showcase his princes and gold. Where your mother went, no one knew, really. It remains a mystery to this day. Riding down the streets in a huge open carriage pulled by six horses, your father stood proudly as the people knelt when it passed them by. You and your brother stood beside him. It was then that he caught your eyes. A small boy, who didn’t kneel. In fact he was the only one who didn’t. He was clad in simple wear, but yet…  _

 

_ You looked into his face, and he met your gaze. It surprised you. The intelligence in his eyes. If you had to be honest, at first you thought he was simple-minded. He didn’t bow to you as the others did. He stared at you, before smirking and turning his head. You bristled. You were a prince. Second in line for the throne of Derse! How dare this peasant not bow in your presence as did the others!? Your lip lifted in a snarl, and you raised your fist to yell at him. But what would you yell? Dualscar looked down at you. He raised an eyebrow. You sullenly turned and faced forward again.  _

 

_ But the memory of his mocking smile haunted you. You took to demanding lessons in riding from your father, and eventually he caved.  _

 

_ You would often ride alone, through the woods, when the morning light was just beginning to filter through the trees. Your favorite ride was a silver horse whom you called Seahorse. It seemed like he was the only one who would listen to you, to your troubles and thoughts. Lately it seemed as though your father had grown increasingly distant. You barely saw him anymore. As for your brother? He had taken to dressing plainly and walking alongside peasants. Walking among them, as if he were one of them. Blugh. Honestly you were sure his sanity was slipping. Seahorse carried you through the trees, and you leaned back to take in the soft morning light filtering through the sparse clouds. You shifter back forward, yawning softly.  _

 

_ That was when you saw him. The same boy. He stood on a grassy ridge, his back turned to you. But you knew it was him. He held two weapons in his hands, crossbows, aimed at something you couldn’t see. You were still a ways away from him. Slipping off of Seahorse, you tied him to a small sapling. Approaching the boy, you realized you felt… Nervous. Not really, nervous, but, more like apprehensive. You cleared your throat.  _

 

_ “Hey!” He jumped slightly, whipping around to stare for a second. Then his features hardened into annoyance.  _

 

_ “Well, if it ithn’t the little printhe.” He had a lisp. His lip curled into a sneer. He couldn’t have been much older than you, and you were barely thirteen.  _

 

_ “Excuse me?” You honestly had no idea how to react to someone sneering at you. Most people you met immediately catered to your whims, bowing, because you were the prince of Derse.  _

 

_ “And thankth a lot, athhole, now I have to fucking find another deer.” Your mouth dropped open slightly. No one had ever insulted you, besides your brother when you were younger. You stood there, for a moment, before clenching a fist.  _

 

_ “Oh, did I get you mad? I bet no one’th told you that before, you’re jutht a little brat who liveth in a big cathle where no one can touch him.” Why weren’t you speaking? Speak, say something!  _

 

_ “Shut up, brat, you don’t know-w me!” The kid’s eyes narrowed.  _

 

_ “Oh, I’m the brat, when your family thits in a palathe and letth the people thtarve?” What? You didn’t know that.  _

 

_ “That’s not true, the-” You didn’t finish your sentence before the kid jumped down and drew a knife, pointing it at your throat. Your breath hitched, and you fumbled ungracefully for your own knife, before remembering you didn’t have it. You backed away a step, and the boy moved with you. Now that you had a closer look at his face, one of his eyes was blue, and the other brown.   _

 

_ “Everyone wantth your family dead, you know.” You didn’t know.  _

 

_ “In fact, I thould kill you. Thtart up a revoluthion!” He edged closer. He was wearing red and blue themed goggles around his neck and leathery brown and yellow and green clothing.  _

 

_ “There’th a war going on you know, I’m thurprithed you and the other utheleth printhe haven’t done anything to stop that idiot of a king.”  _

 

_ “Hey!” Why was this boy, who couldn’t have been older than you, threatening to take your life, insulting your family, and- _

 

_ “Are those things true? About the king?”  _

 

_ He stared at you. “You-” He swung his arm back to slash at you, but a loud screech caused him to jump and turn to look away.  _

 

_ “THOOOLLLLLLLL!!!!” A yellow and black blur was running towards you. Who were these insane people!? You just wanted to go for a ride! ...You at least had some food for thought. But for now, all you could do was jump back slightly, as another boy nearly pounced on the one with the knife. He was wearing a full-body black and yellow suit. His hair covered his face and his teeth protruded from his mouth from the corners.  _

 

_ “THOL WHAT’RE YOU DOING,” The other boy screeched. He was taller than the one with the goggles, you would guess maybe nineteen or so.  _

 

_ “Tuna, no, not right now!” The other boy, Thol or whatever his name was, was trying to shake off the other boy. Tuna. You backed away a few steps. Goggles was still talking to Fish.  _

_ “Why aren’t you wearing your helmet?” You could only guess what they were talking about.  _

 

_ “THOL A PRETHON” Prethon? Oh, person. Oh. You looked up at the guy’s huge smile. He reached for your glasses, and you grabbed his wrist. He screeched and yelled “NO NO TOUCHIN LEGGO” And you did. He calmed down significantly and clutched the Thol boy.  _

 

_ “Leave. Now.” Thol was glaring at you. You backed a foot away, and then another one. “GO!” He barked at you, and, being the little wimp you were, you backed further, turning, and practically running back to Seahorse. You heard him saying something to the older boy, but you ignored it, kicking Seahorse into a run. Only until you were far, far away, did you think about the things the boy had said.  _

  
  


Back to the present. Your eyes are closed, and your arms behind your head. You still have to finish the last of the paperwork for the transactions to the Prospit kingdom. A meeting is hoped for, although with the rumours you’ve heard, it’s not going to happen. So, after conferring with your advisors and a great deal of thought on your own part, you decided some kind of gift, a kind of peace offering, would do well in your favor. You hadn’t gained much intel on the Prospitian ruler, but you figured if any big political upheaving or something took place, you would hear of it. It’s kind of hard not to hear of these things. You should get those papers done. You have a long day ahead of you, and many more things to get done. This isn’t...the time for...sleep.

 

٠ ٠ ٠

 


	2. Chapter 2

You are now Sollux Captor. As was previously mentioned, you are a double agent for both the Prospit and Dersian kingdom. It’s easy enough to understand without going into much detail. You collect information, keep secrets, and plot kingdom against kingdom, all for money. You fight with two crossbows, as inconvenient as it is to load them, the way you’ve rigged them up to your wrists, it’s a lot easier than you would think to fire them. 

 

Right now, you’re crossing the border between the Derse and Prospit kingdom. You have to collect your payment from a previous excursion. Mounting the border wall with ease, you drop down silently. You secure the papers in the inner pockets of your jacket. It must be around two a.m. or so. Fits your ‘two fetish’ as ED calls it. God, you hate him. It’s like he goes out of his way to be a prissy little brat, but especially to you. You hate his nasally, childish voice. He somehow manages to portray both an aristocrat and a petty child at the same time, and you hate it. 

 

٠ ٠ ٠

 

Your dreams are barely remembered come morning, but they are vivid and heart-stopping. You’re racing through the fields, and a mist is swirling around you. You trip, and fall into darkness. You pray to wake up, you know you’re dreaming. But all you hear is laughter. Makara? The clown’s chuckles echo in your head, and suddenly it’s not funny at all, and was it ever funny in the first place? It swirls around and pressed into your eyes. The pressure is unbearable, and you jerk awake to find your knees pressed into your eye sockets. You uncurl yourself, and find yourself stiff all over. Standing up, you notice the rays of sunlight pouring in through the windows. You hold back a groan as you realize your schedule has been pushed back. Now you have even more to do. You press your hands into your face, dragging them upwards to rake through your hair. At least, at this rate, you’ll at least be a bit sharper for having gained some sleep. You stretch your arm back behind your head, and your neck twinges. You wince. Today would be another long, work filled day. You sigh. 

  
  


Settling yourself into your chair, you’re the only one in the dining hall. You’re the head of the table, and the king of Derse. You still feel fucking lonely. But you would never admit it to anyone. Footsteps are heard, and a small maid enters the huge dining room. You always took your meals here, Even with the impracticality of it all. 

 

The maid places the platter of food in front of you, and you barely nod. Lifting a forkful of eggs into your mouth, you burn your tongue and, coughing, spit it out across the table. The maid squeaks and rushes to your side, quickly patting your back and saying “Are you ok, Your Majesty?” You cough a few more times and reach for a glass of water or something. 

 

“Yes, I’m fine.” you gulp down a few mouthfuls, and finishing your toast, stand up. 

 

“Lots to do. Little time.” She nods, and bobs a curtsy. 

  
  


You push open the doors to the meeting room, where your subordinates await you. Your lead technicians, the Zahhaks, stand and bow. You know their allegiance leans towards the Makaras, but you already have plans to eliminate the lower royal family. They bow to you, however, as you are the King of Derse. 

 

The Makaras have been next in line to rule Derse for centuries, going back generations upon generations. These so-called “Highbloods”, as you know they call themselves, have been in conflict with the Ampora royals since before your grandfather, but it has escalated considerably since the ruthless Grand Highblood came into power. He’s sent out small armies against your own, leading them himself. You’ve heard stories of what he does to those who oppose him, killing and tearing apart even his own subordinates. Your father, King Orphaner Dualscar, fought him hand-to-hand. 

 

Both were wounded, it’s how he gained the two scars over his eye he was so famous for. He’s been dead three years last week. You came into power shortly after your brother. 

 

His two sons, the Makara brothers, were often seen hanging around the village. With their strange, painted faces, they actually kind of creeped you out. But they are beneath you. The older one had thin stitches holding his mouth closed, you weren’t sure how he spoke. Or even if he did at all. You hadn’t seen their king. You didn’t even know what he looked like. 

 

“Your Majesty.” You looked up, realizing you were lost in thought. Your strategist, Vriska Serket, is smirking at you. God, will the bitch ever not be condescending and rude? 

 

“Serket. Hawe you completed the w-work I-”

 

“Yes, I did it.” She cuts you off. 

You fucking hate your subordinates, and they know it. Sollux only makes it worse. 

 

٠ ٠ ٠

 

“Will that be all, my lady?” You touch two fingers to your brow as you bow. The young Empress-to-be, Meenah Piexes, grins at you. 

 

“That should be it, bee-boy!” She’s next in line for the throne of prospit, and her little sister, Feferi, is next. A long time ago, there was a war. There used to be one land, but the Derse/Prospitian war broke out maybe sixty years ago, and the Empress of what is now Prospit is waging war against Derse to take it back and rule over it all. 

 

You’ve just delivered papers containing information on Derse’s new plan of attack, such as strategy, plan of action, and soldier count. It should be invaluable to the battle. 

“You’re not forgetting anything?” You hold out a hand expectantly, and Meenah giggles. You call her Meenah to yourself; you see no reason to call such a bitch with a title like “Your Highness” or any bullshit like that. The royal family is extravagantly rich, they sleep on beds of gold and silver. 

 

Meenah tosses you a few gold coins. You hold back a remark and a scowl. 

  
  


Making your way back to the border, and your own private home, or should you say your family home, seeing as you normally sleep in the castle, you walk for a few miles before you realize you can smell smoke on the air. 

 

You break into a run, and round onto your house, which has smoke seeping from the windows. You hear shrieks from inside, and the door is closed. You pound on the door, and when it doesn’t budge, you throw your shoulder against it until it gives, and you fall to the floor as it does. 

Mituna, your older brother, is trying to put out a muffin tin and a table. He’s trying to smother the flames with a dish towel, which is already smoking. 

 

“Mituna! What the hell happened?” You yell at him over his panicked screams. 

 

“Muffins, Thol, I’m thorry!” Mituna gives up beating the flames and runs to you. He’s wearing a torn apron, and he doesn’t have his helmet. You grab his face and he calms down a bit. 

 

“You…were trying to cook? Ith that it?” He nods and sniffs. 

 

“M’thorry, Thol, won’t happen again…” When your older brother gets worked up and emotional, his slurring and lisping only gets worse. 

 

You can’t remember a time when he wasn’t like this. Before he died, your father told you he used to be perfectly normal. Then some kind of accident short-circuited his brain, rendering his sentences  choppy and his behavior erratic.

 

Both of you suffered from bipolarity, and his was only made worse. The fucking Ampora boy had worsened it from there. Not Eridan, he’s your problem. Cronus. Cronus Ampora.

 

The dead boy king. 

  
  


٠ ٠ ٠

 

You stride back out into the hallway, and back to your chambers. You had forgotten your crown, and after giving out assignments for the morning, decided to go back and get it from your study. 

 

٠ ٠ ٠

 

Walking past the guards at the front gates, they barely nod as you pass them. They wear black armor, and look rather like chess pieces, to you. It’s around midmorning, and you desperately need sleep, having been awake around three days and two nights so far. 

 

You push open the heavy doors of the conference room, and the entire place lurches to the right. You shake your head. Ugh. You’re the only one there, so you decide to take the papers you had stolen straight to Eridan himself, and collect your payment from his office. At least he pays more than that shitty princess across the border. 

 

٠ ٠ ٠

 

You opened the door to your study, and saw Karkat Vantas, your servant, organizing your desk. 

 

“Wantas.” He growls and looks up at you. Your eyes narrow. You hate his face.

 

“Out of my study. Now-w.” He glares, and you do as well. Then he turns heel and marches out of the room. Impertinent bastard. You sit at your desk and pull your crown towards you, raising it up to settle on your head. The dyed portion of your hair is like straw. But it’s pretty soft and fluffy, so you don’t mind that much. 

 

You lean back into your large chair, and bring a hand up to trace the scars on your neck. You have three small lines carved into both sides. They look like gills. No wonder Sollux calls you “Fishdick”. Yet another reason to wish for his big stupid heterochromatic eyes to fall out. You got the scars a long time ago, when you were still a boy.

 

٠ ٠ ٠

 

_ Years and years ago, and you are a young boy.  _

 

_ A few months ago, you happened to meet the young prince of Derse, Eridan Ampora. You’d thought him absolutely awful. It’s likely he thought the same of you. You’d scared him off, and he’d run off. Back to his castle and servants. You spit in his direction. Your big brother, Mituna, pulls at your arm. _

 

_ “Who’th he?” You look back at him.  _

 

_ “He’th the printhe. The thon of the king.” MT pauses for a second.  _

 

_ “Ith he your friend?” Your eye twitches. _

 

_ “No. And I don’t plan on that changing.” _

 

_ A few months later, and here we are, watching your brother watch another boy. Yes. So you’re a bit protective. It isn’t a crime. The boy MT is watching has his back turned, with dark hair and pale skin. He’s wearing plain clothes, like yours. Mituna edges closer, and you pray that he won’t do anything stupid. MT pokes his head and runs to his other side when the boy turns to look. _

 

_ You jolt forward a little. He looks just like the prince you scared off a few months ago! Is he-?  _

_ Your thoughts are cut off as he opens his mouth.  _

 

_ You’re close enough to hear him speak, and you immediately compare his voice to the prince’s. It’s deeper, he’s probably his older brother. Damn it, for all you’ve learned to hate the young princes for, you still don’t know their names. It’s just ‘the princes’ to you. You should ask your father about this.  _

 

_ The older prince is leaning towards MT, and saying something else. You lean closer and realize he’s just insulted your brother’s speech.  _

 

_ “And you skate? The fuck is that?” He reaches forward to tug Mituna’s hair. You bristle slightly.  _

 

_ “You, uhm, with a board… “ MT cringed back slightly. “Thorry…” _

 

_ He leans forwards more, and you move, creeping closer where you are; the corner of a building a few feet away. He’s moved closer, and you’re a hundred percent sure that this is indeed an Ampora boy.  _

 

_ “V-would you evwer?” Even the stutter is nearly identical. MT’s backing away and muttering ‘sorry’s.  _

_ You walk out and take his arm. The prince looks surprised to see you there. Could he really not have noticed you? Idiot, you were only a few feet away. If this is the way things with the royal family are, it shouldn’t be as hard to overthrow the royalty and, corresponding with Karkat’s father’s wishes, install a new democracy.  _

 

_ “Printhe,” you say, “Why don’t you leave MT alone for now?” You’re ready to persuade him if he doesn’t comply. For how annoying he can be, MT’s still your brother, and you will defend him.  _

 

_ He frowns, making the family connection. Then he grins.  _

 

_ “M’names Cronus, and v-who might you be?”  _

 

_ So as it turns out, he’s a total douche.  _

 

_ As you and Mituna begin walking walking away, he follows, and  _ **_flirts with everyone he passes._ **

_ He teases MT, and makes sly comments to you. Oh my gog. Had he been disowned? You wouldn’t be surprised. He’s walking about in peasant’s clothing, and appears to be a total waste of air.  _

 

_ “Why don’t you leave uth alone…” You moan for the last time. He flips an arm over MT’s shoulder, and MT squeaks and shimmies away. Cronus growls at him. You lose it.  _

 

_ “Alright, would you fuck off!? You’re tho annoying!” You push him away from Mituna. He squawks and waves his arms, off balance. He topples backwards into someone, who turns around. _

 

_ “What are you doing here, Sollux?” Oh, fuck, it’s Kankri. Karkat’s intolerable older brother. He thinks he’s doing good, but really, there’s more harm coming from his endless lectures. You’ve had to sit through hours of his monotonous speech.  _

 

_ “It’s good to see you, Sollux, and you as well, Mituna. What is your name?” Cronus tucks a piece of hair behind his ear. A piece of hair above his eyes is dyed gray. The smaller prince had a purple chunk instead.  _

 

_ “Cronus. Cronus Ampora. V-who are you?” _

 

_ “My name is Kankri Vantas. It’s a pleasure to meet you, mister Ampora. Oh, my apologies. I shouldn’t assume your prefered pronouns and gender. If it’s not too triggering or rude of me to ask, what do you prefer in terms of such?”  _

 

_ “Uh… Male.” Cronus looks mildly confused. You nod to yourself. Last name, further confirmation, not that you really needed it.  _

 

_ “Thank you, but please remember to specify more than that in future times. Specification now is not necessary, unless you would prefer to act on the subject now instead of later. Oh- my sincerest apologies, talk of time and the passage of time might be triggering, mightn’t it? I’d be a good idea to sit down with you and talk this out if it’s not too triggering or a bother to think about. It would also be an intelligent move to list and or compile a list of possibly triggering topics to avoid.”  _

 

_ Your hatred knows no bounds.  _

 

٠ ٠ ٠

 


	3. Chapter 3

You sit back in your chair, and look at the ceiling. You specifically moved the office to this room, because of how plain it is. While you adorn your fingers with rings, you like a simple room to think in. There’s a bookcase behind you, full of books. Most of them belonged to your brother, and your father before him. But there’s a few that you added yourself. Although the royal income has actually been growing weaker, and you suspect it has something to do with your soldier’s spendings. 

You sent Sollux out to retrieve papers from the kingdom of Prospit, and hopefully he’ll be back soon. He’s good at his job, you know that. You used to hang out with him when you were kids. His brother and Your brother were… Friends? Well, honestly it seemed more like your brother teased Sollux’s and Mituna just apologised. 

 

You haven’t thought about this in so long. It seems like the more thought you put into your memories, the more memories come to you. You remember names, and faces, and… Kankri. You’ve almost avoided thinking about him, but with recollection of the past, comes unwanted memories. But you guess it’s unavoidable. He always wore a red sweater. The one that Porrim made him. 

 

Porrim was this tall girl with pale, pale skin, the older sister of Kanaya. Kanaya had- no, has, she’s still alive! You have a tendency to speak of people you know in the past tense.

 

You don’t see her much anymore, your work as the king of the Dersian kingdom keeps you away from the people of the villages around the land. It was you who forced Karkat to work for you, after the whole Kankri ordeal. After your father was killed, it was Cronus who came into power. After all, he was the oldest child. 

 

٠ ٠ ٠

 

You are Karkat Vantas now, and you’re pissed at the lazy excuse for a king whom you just marched away from. Passing Sollux in the hallway, he nods hello. He seems tired. 

“Hey, Sollux, you okay?” Your voice is loud and scratchy. 

“Huh? Oh, yeah, I’m fine KK. Jutht tired.” Ah. He’s probably been up on another mission from Eridan or the Condesce. You’re the only person who knows about his double life. He and you are pretty close. Not as close as him and Aradia, though. They were dating a few years ago, you don’t know what they are now. He keeps walking, and you turn and do the same.  _ I think I’ll go and visit Kanaya.  _ You go you your room first. Stripping off the hideous maid outfit Eridan makes you wear, you slide on your soft, comfy black sweater and a simple pair of pants. 

 

Walking out of the castle, you honestly aren’t sure what you would even say to Kanaya. You haven’t seen her in a while. You heard she opened up a clothing shop, with her friend Rose, but you could know less. When Eridan first… employed you… as his servant, you weren’t allowed out of the castle. Now you are, but it has taken a few years to get that far. Stupid stuck up brat. Sometimes you want to punch his fucking face. It’s been three years since Kankri died. It was his fault. Both Eridan’s and that stupid Cronus.

 

You stop. You’re at a grassy ridge a little ways away from the castle, and sit with your back against the tree at the top. It’s nice outside. You close your eyes. 

  
  


“Karkat? Karkat!” You’re woken by a hand shaking your shoulder. 

 

“Fuck, what!? I was sleeping!” Your vision comes into focus, and it’s Kanaya who’s removing her hand from your sweater. You stagger to your feet, still a little woozy, and throw your arms around her. 

 

“Kanaya! Fuck, I missed you!” She laughs and hugs you tightly. You bury your face into her shoulder, breathing in her smell. You can feel a few tears trying to escape your eyes, and you squeeze them tightly closed. You can feel her burying her face in your hair. She’s your greatest friend, you shared everything with each other. She pulls back, and you do too. You can see tears glistening at the corners of her eyes too. 

 

“I missed you as well, Karkat.” Her voice is just as calm and proper as always. She smiled, and takes your hand. “Shall we go to the boutique? There’s been a few changes you’re not aware of.”

You grin and squeeze her hand. 

 

The door to the small, quaint home swings open gently with the soft tinkle of a bell. There’s a sign that reads “Maryam” hung outside, and everything looks very different, yet familiar, to you. There are rows of beautiful dresses hung upon racks lining the walls. The windows are open, with wind breathing through the house. A faint clacking comes from upstairs. Kanaya goes to the kitchen, set apart a ways from the main room. You stand there, until she calls you back with a smile. 

 

“Karkat, there’s no need to stand there. Come on into the kitchen!”

 

You step into the kitchen, and smile as she offers you a warm cup of tea. She walks past you, fixing a dress on display. You walk over to her. 

 

“You’ve really become successful, huh?” You run a hand down the soft silk of a sundress. She laughs and takes a sip of her tea. 

 

“Yes, We’ve really made this place into an establishment!” She smacks your hand away from the dress and you squeak. You’d forgotten how protective she is of her couture.

 

“Well, I suppose Rose is engrossed in her writings, so it maybe best to leave her be for the moment.” 

You try on a hat, and look up at the staircase leading to the upstairs. You can still hear the clacking, which you realize is the sound of typewriter keys. 

 

“What’s she writing?” Kanaya sets her cup down and begins to make another one.

 

“I’ll take this to her, you can come along and see for yourself. I’m sure she’ll enjoy seeing you again.”

 

“Wait, but I thought she didn’t want to be disturbed?” You pick up Kanaya’s tea and hold it along with yours. 

 

“I don’t think she could mind that much.” Kanaya grins and takes her tea from you. She turns and walks to the stairs, ascending with you in tow. There’s a small room at the top, with other rooms coming off of it. One is slightly open, and you can hear the clacking louder from it. Kanaya gently pushes the door open, singing “Rose…” softly. 

 

Rose is seated with her back to you, typing quickly at a typewriter. Her hands are speckled with ink, and she’s wearing a long purple dress. At the sound of Kanaya’s voice, she turns and a smile appears on her face. Standing, she pushes back the small seat and embraces her. 

 

“Kanaya! It’s good to see you. And Karkat!” She smiles at you. “It’s good to see you as well. It has been years since we last spoke.” You smile back, nodding your head. It has been forever. Kanaya hands Rose the tea, and Rose gratefully accepts it. Lifting it to her mouth, she turns back to the small desk and gestures with her free hand. 

 

“Care to take a look at my most recent work?”

 

Her room is littered with knitted items, clothes, and stuffed squids and other critters. Her bed is made, but haphazardly so. You can see a half-open closet partially full of clothes. You nod, and Kanaya steps over. Seating herself at the small chair, she reads through the papers in the typewriter, with you reading over her shoulder. 

 

“It’s lovely, Rose my dear.” Kanaya stands, and Rose wraps her arms around her shoulders, and kisses her. You squawk. Kanaya pulls away. 

 

“This is the change I was telling you about, Karkat.” She smiles at Rose. “Rose and I are lovers now.”

 

You stare for a minute. Then you feel your cheeks start to heat up. You feel yourself start to smile a little bit. It’s sweet, just like the romance novels you keep hidden in your room. Rose giggles, and Kanaya grins at you. You smile at them both, feeling comfortable around them. Kanaya especially. You’ve been friends with her since you were little children. You confide in her everything, and she does the same with you. 

 

“That’s great, I, fuck, I’m really happy for you guys!” 

 

“Thank you, Karkat. Yes, we’re happy as well.” Rose adjusts the collar of her dress. Her skin’s gotten a little gray, you wonder if she’s getting enough sun. Kanaya’s pale as ever, almost translucent. She always burned really easily, so it’s understandable she stayed in the shade. The tea in your hands is getting kinda cold, so you take a few gulps. 

 

“Darling, do you think you could perhaps run by the market, and purchase for me some more drink?”

 

Kanaya sighs. “Dear Rose, should you really be drinking at this hour?” You raise an eyebrow in question, and Kanaya tips her head at you. 

 

“Rose has become…rather enamored with the drink Absinthe, I assume you are familiar with it?” You nod. You’ve hear of it. Something about ‘the artist’s best friend’. 

 

“It helps my writing,” Rose defends. “The words flow smoother.” 

 

“Alright, love. I’ll purchase a bottle for you.” Kanaya relents, sighing again. 

 

You note there’s a covered table in a corner of the room. Pointing at it, you say “What’s that?”

 

Rose walks over to it, smiling. She whips of the covering, and reveals a set of tubes, bottles, vials, and other equipment. Your eyes widen. She gestures to the equipment with a wide sweep of her arm. 

 

“This, dear Karkat, is my alchemy set.” You lean forward where you stand, stepping forward as your weight takes you. She smiles and raises a hand. 

 

“It’s not truly alchemy, for that would be a more antiquated form of what I do here. This is more chemistry, you see?” She hold up a vial, encouraging you to smell it. You do, and your head spins slightly from the whiff of alcohol you just took.

 

“You’re making…your own drinks?” 

 

“Yes, I am! Although, it’s taken a while longer than expected.”

 

The conversation is pleasant, and almost soothing, as the three of you move downstairs to sit together on the small couches in the sitting room. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here ya go, loves! Really put it into this one, I'll keep up the good work!

_“Karkat!” You wave at the grey and black clad figure in the distance. Kankri’s by your side, and you catch out of the corner of your eye how his nose wrinkles at your yell. Karkat’s arm lifts up and waves, and Mituna at your side laughs loudly and waves back. Cronus snorts._

 

_“Hey Sollux! Hey, fuckass.” Karkat greets you and Kankri. Kankri sighs._

 

_“Must you? I hope I don’t have to lecture you on the proper usage of those words, Karkat. You don’t know this person,” he says, gesturing to Cronus. “And you have no way to know which words will and will not trigger him! Excuse me, Cronus, for this outburst.”_

 

_“Sure, toots…” Cronus honestly looked like he didn’t know what to do with Kankri. Kankri looks like he was going to say something about Cronus’s use of language too, but Karkat reached you in time._

 

_“What did you say your name was?” He was looking at Cronus._

 

_Cronus glanced between Karkat and Kankri, guessing at the family tie. “Brothers?” Karkat nods._

 

_“He’s insufferable, though, I’d rather claim zero fucking ties to him.”_

 

_Kankri bleats in admonishment and Karkat pats his shoulder._

 

_“Name’s Cronus.” You glare at the late response, and Karkat nods at him, rolling his eyes._

 

_“Smooth, moron.”_

 

_Cronus slicks his hair back with one hand._

 

٠ ٠ ٠

 

“My king.” The papers flap softly as they land on the table. You can never tell whether his voice is sarcastic or not. You glance up, pulling the papers toward you. There are three, exactly three, and they detail the next attack on Derse. Apparently this was supposed to happen a few days later, but it’s been pushed to tomorrow. Battle is more strategy than fighting, you’ve come to realize.

 

You look up completely. Sollux’s face is haggard, he obviously hasn’t slept in days. You never know how he even gets this information. Narrowing your eyes slightly, you reach below your desk to free the box of money you keep here for this purpose. You keep it in a specially made slot that is easily hidden and built into the desk. Pulling out sixteen silver pieces, you place them on the table, sliding them towards him.

 

He picks up the pieces, your eyes catch the way the silver glints on his long, thin fingers.

 

“...Hm.” He nods, sliding them into a small pouch at his waist. “Thankth.”

 

He doesn’t normally thank you. You close your eyes briefly, and nod back. Turning his back, he snatches one of the small candies you keep in a bowl and pops it into his mouth, flashing you a sneering grin as he walks away.

 

A flash of irritation surges through you, and you growl at his retreating back. You flip him off. He’s already closed the door and walked away. You pull the bowl of candies closer to you and eat a few as you scan the papers one more time.

 

The attack to be mounted on the twenty-second, now pushed to the nineteenth, tomorrow, had to have been pushed for a reason. Then your eyes catch a small bump on the paper, and you run a finger gently over the words. Raised bumps, and raised letters. They’re clearly deliberate, uniform. You stand, and the action pushes your chair back in your excitement. A code? A clue, perhaps, to the attack, and the reason for it being pushed forward. You sit down again, and, pushing some papers already on the desk to the floor in your haste to get them out of the way, you spread the three papers out. The last order you gave Sollux, you instructed him to break into the castle and take papers from the desk of the head guard. Over the years, you’ve learned more through experience the names and even some of the faces of the enemy army’s top soldiers and generals. “Know thine enemy.” You put that philosophy to good action.

 

“Hmmh... “ You check the other papers. The same things. Swiveling your chair around, you stand, holding the papers. Crossing the room, you pull open a drawer in a filing cabinet. Rifling through it, you slam it closed with a little more force than necessary. Opening the next one, you pull out a few laminated papers, and let them flap onto your desk. You scan the bookcase for anything of use, and pull out a smallish book, thin, and hardback. Your rings make knocking noises as you drum your fingers against the cover, sitting down at your desk again. Whipping around in your chair, you open the code book at the back, scanning the index for something having to do with bump patterns. You find Braille. Placing the book down, you pick up one of the charts, scanning it quickly.

 

You don’t find anything having to do with raised letters. The charts have more recent codes, things you and your team have picked up over the years. Pulling a blank sheet of paper out of your desk, you make notes of where to find the codes. Now that you have knowledge of the nearing attack, you’ve got to start in, planning dispatches. The papers don’t specify a location, so you consider placing smaller teams, along the front lines, most likely middle-gear.

 

Your army is split into four gear-divisions. The first, the basic-gear. The trainees, the young, the new recruits. Then, the middle-gear. The trained soldiers, they’re ready to lay their lives down in battle. The squads of middle-gear are led by one high-gear soldier. The high-gear are survivors, they’ve served for years and years. Squads are typically self-led, but a few of the highest have Elite leaders. The Elite are your top soldiers. They carry custom weapons. Working in small groups of three to five, they are your best. Front-lines and black ops are best suited, and you put them to good use.

 

You realize with a start that you shouldn’t be doing this alone. You’re the king, goddamnit. You have tacticians and strategists for this. Gathering the papers into a neat pile, you stand up, holding them. You have maps in the strategist’s room, and a better plan would be made there.

 

٠ ٠ ٠

 

You nearly collapse onto your bed, forcing your eyes to remain open. Pulling the covers down, you pull off your shoes, and pull your shirt over your head. Your jacket lays by the door, a few coins have rolled out across the floor. You almost desperately pull your pants off, tossing them a few yards away. Your face hits your pillow, and you sigh, so fucking relieved to sleep. Seriously, you’ve never felt so tired in you life, although you’ve stayed awake for much longer. It should not be that big a deal…

  


_You’ve known each other for months, and now even Kankri has started giving up on “correcting” His behavior and speech. He’s a total fucking douche, and spends all his time flirting with Porrim, Kanaya’s older sister. You haven’t seen much of the littler one, though. The one your age._

 

_Cronus seems to have attached himself to you and Mituna, always following along. He seems pretty desperate, to be honest. You still have no clue why he dresses up like anyone you would meet on the street, and tries so hard to seem “average”. Pretty much everyone recognizes him, but they play along. It’s hell, watching everyone try so hard not to call him “your highness”, and just “Cronus”._

 

_“Ay, babes.” Porrim turns, grimacing. “Hello, Cronus,” she says. “You know it’s rude to speak to a woman like that.” She’s big on respect and works on fixing inequality between genders. Pretty respectable, she’s alright if you have to say. You nod hello, and she smiles at you._

 

_Pretty soon the four of you are walking. It’s a habit to just walk around the town, picking up what you need for dinner with your father’s money and talking with a few friends, like Karkat and Kanaya._

 

_Your father works for the king, Dualscar, and the Empress of Prospit. He’s a double agent, worming his way into the inner circles of both and pilfering documents, plans, and gold. He delivers to both the secrets of the other, keeping the battle at a standstill. He confessed to you and Mituna that he feels a sense of control over the state of affairs. You can see it as fun._

 

_“LATULAAAAAAA!” MT yells at a girl across the street. She excitedly waves back, before throwing something to the ground and jumping onto it, pushing with one leg to send herself zooming across the street. You jerk back a little. She zips to a stop if front of you, flipping the board up into her hands. It’s fitted with four wheels on the bottom, which explains how she was able to do that. You look her up and down. “Who’s this?” you say to MT. He laughs._

 

_“This is Latula! She and I met a week ago!” he grinned at her and she swatted him playfully on the arm._

 

_“Yoo, dogs!” She grins at you and Cronus. “Rad meetin’ ya!” She hoists her… board a little higher under her arm and Mituna points to it, laughing a little._

 

_“She’s been teaching me to skate!” Latula hands him the board._

 

_“Go and show ‘em what you got!” He takes at and runs a ways off. You flap a hand at him._

 

_“MT, no!” He’s a bit clumsy. You don’t want him hurt. He runs off anyway, and places the board on the hard-packed earth that forms the road that winds through the town. He turns, gets on the wooden board and pushes off with a foot like Latula, gathering speed. He shifted his feet, and flipped the board up, jumping, and landing with the board under his feet on the slooth railing that separated the walkway from the road. He skids wildly for a few seconds, then reaches the end, flipping the board off, or trying to, and landing on his face. You rush forward to help him up, but Latula reaches him first. Mituna takes her hand, and she pulls him up. He’s got blood streaming from one nostril. You reach up and wipe at him with your sleeve._

 

_Cronus is stalking over, looking mildly pissed. “Vwhat the hell, Mit, you coulda died!” You can’t help but feel surprise at the sudden show of concern on Cronus’s part. But Mituna doesn’t seem to care, he and Latula were giggling as she told him something. Well, it’s good to see your brother has a new friend, at least. You walk over to them where they wandered off, and poke Latula. She turns._

 

_“So, who are you exthactly?” You ask, not knowing whether to trust the new girl or not. She grins at you over her square, red-tinted glasses. She whips a hand up, flipping the board into her arms. You jump back a little, wishing not to get hit by the rounded piece of wood. “And what’th that?”_

 

_“This is my skateboard! Made this rad piece’a junk myself!” She pronounces her E’s and A’s heavily. You nod at the board. “Never theen anything like it.” and she grins at your words._

 

_“My name’s Latula! Nice ta meetcha!” She holds out a hand and you clasp it rather warily. She shakes it, and you pull back. “Tho, when did you and MT meet?”_

 

_“Oh, that was awhile ago! He’s a real rad dude, and totally up to skate!”_

 

_MT joins in. “Yeah, the’s been tellin’ me we can make a board thomeday!” Latula nods. It is nice to see your older brother smiling and talking with someone. He normally just says some pervy bullshit and frightens them off without meaning to. He’s kinda…socially awkward, and not in the cute way._

 

_“LT…” She turns and says “Yeah?”_

 

_“Be good to MT.”_

 

_She nods and smiles, understanding your protectiveness._

 

_“And be careful. I don’t want to thee more cuts and bruitheth on him.” She nods again._

_“You got it, bro!”_

  


_It’s been a few months, MT and LT are hanging out during the day, and Mituna’s actually getting pretty good on the board. Then you walk in on them kissing._

 

_It’s not too graphic, Latula’s hands are resting lightly on Mituna’s shoulders, and he’s holding his board under an arm. You’ve just returned home from buying groceries for you father to cook dinner with, and the brown paper bag is crinkled in your hands._

 

_“Hey! What the fuck!” They both jump apart a little, Mituna blushing, and Latula having the decency to look sheepish, abashed almost. “You two!?” Latula nods a little._

 

_“We’ve been in it together far about a week now!” She runs a hand through her hair._

 

_“Aagh… Well, you’ll have to thpeak to Dad about thith. For now, jutht don’t bother me while I work.”_

_It’s out of your hands. MT nods and latula takes him by the hand. They run off, presumably to skate around and kiss. Blehh._

 

_You sit at the desk in your room, pulling the papers full of equations and code closer in the afternoon light. Your work consists of building and designing robotic creatures. You fell in love with them at a young age, and now, thirteen, you’ve become proficient with function programming._

 

_At least as far as current tech goes. So you’ve been working on new tech. The systems you’re used to have become mundane. Inventing and tinkering with new gears has given you a challenge. You hold two plastic pieces together with your fingers, raising the welding stick to fuse them together. This will become the pace for the new robot. It’s to be programmed with protecting and keeping an eye on MT. Yes, you’re still a bt protective. He’s clumsy on his feet._

 

_You feel a sense of Déjà vu. Have you lived through this before? It feels as though you have._

 

٠ ٠ ٠

 

Vriska is looking over the papers. “He did a good job,” You hear her mumble. “This is useful info!” As your strategist, she doesn’t take care of this kind of stuff, but she’ll still grab any and all papers you receive and study them. She loves anything having to do with codes, strategy, and the like. That’s partially what got her working for you in the first place. You allowing her to take a look at papers and codes and maps and whatever.

 

“Yes, he’s a waluable asset..” Vriska laughs unkindly.

 

“That weird little verbal tic of your is funny, King.” You sneer at her, saying “I can’t help it.”

 

“Stiiiiiiiill, ya know? Not many people take you seriously.”

 

“W-whatewer.”

 

“W-w-w-w-w-w-w-w-w.”

 

“Shut up!” You stomp away. Very dignifiedly. Like a king.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment any plot points I might have missed, and what you thought!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hoo boy, this one took a while to get out!

_ You are now Kankri Vantas. _

_ You wear a large red sweater, made for you by Porrim Maryam, perhaps your best friend. You do your best to take everyone’s opinions into consideration, and try your hardest to please everyone. _

_ Recently, your younger brother, Karkat, has taken to “hanging out” with young Sollux Captor, whom he has known since childhood. and his friends. Especially one Cronus Ampora.  _

_ It’s pretty easy to tell that he’s royalty, you’re not sure why he chooses to identify as a common person, but you do your best to respect that. He is, without a doubt, and your own mind hates to think it, but he is obnoxious. It seems he goes out of his way to ignore your attempts to get him to be even slightly less potentially offensive, with your efforts being turned against you and his annoying face, getting closer to you, grinning, his teeth are even and his eyes are bright, the unlit cigarette between his teeth moving as he laughs. _

_ You’re lying on your bed, on your side, with your legs curled up a little. Your eyes have just popped open, and now you slowly reach up your hands to run through your hair, leaning your head to get the left side. _

_ You can’t think such things. _

_ He’s not handsome, he’s not… well, no, you wouldn’t want to hurt him by implying that he’s ugly… as much as society implements beauty standards and expectations on the people anyway. _

_ You consider yourself a little above your time, and you do your best to help promote equality among your peers. It seems to you that people, the populace, is altogether blind to the plights of those with mental disorders, physical ailments, and struggles with just general acceptance of different identities and ability level. But most people think you’re annoying, or just a blowhard. It’s hard to find someone who will listen to a sermon of yours.  _

_ Your father was known to his followers as “Signless”, because during the great split of Derse and Prospit ten years ago, he refused to takes sides, and instead encouraged people to take action for peace. He told you he would give sermons, the same as you try to do. You’ve seen blurry pictures. People grouped around him, and him, standing strong, hand extended, speaking to the masses. You’ve tried your hardest to be like he was. _

_ He was killed by the Condescension, the ruler of Prospit. You watched, holding Karkat in your arms. He was only five at the time, and you remember, you can almost hear the scream as the arrows fired by the Condesce's executioner, Darkleer, thudded deep into his torso. You can almost feel Karkat’s face pressed into your belly, and tears running down your face, as Dolorosa, your father’s adoptive mother and Porrim and Kanaya’s caretaker, was held back, growling, shrieking, by guards and friends, and Signless’ last words: I forgive you.  _

_ You raise a hand, and feel your cheeks. They’re wet with tears leaking from your eyes. _

_ You move your hand down, to settle on your hip. Then you roll over, facing the ceiling. Your room is small, and you can see the beams supporting the roof above your head. Sitting up, you roll off the bed and shake your arms, fluffing your sweater. Then you walk out of your room, heading down the stairs.  _

_ “Augh-- Fuck!” There’s a loud crashing sound from the kitchen, and your head whips around.  _

_ “Karkat! Are you alright?” He’s laying on his back, a large pan a few inches from his head. You hold a hand out to him, and he takes it and pulls himself up. “Karkat, you know to be careful while in the kitchen!” He flaps a hand at you. “Yeah, yeah, whatever.” You reach for his ear. _

_ “Pick up this mess, please. You don’t want anyone to trip over this, do you?” Karkat huffs and picks on the pan. “I’m cooking breakfast, move.” _

_ You sigh. _

_ “Karkat, language.” _

_ “Suck my fuck.” he places the pan on the stove, pulling a large jar of flour from the pantry.  _

_ You sigh. “It’s useless lecturing you, isn’t it?” He nods and dumps a few cups into a bowl. _

_ Later, you’re walking around the town, hoping to meet with a friend. Kanaya and her new friend Rose have been hanging out lately, and you’d love to meet her. Resting against a low stone wall, you sit with your back to an olive tree. Closing your eyes, you release a gust of air, feeling the early morning calm.  _

_ “Hey.” _

_ You crack open your eyes. Cronus is standing a few feet away. He cocks his head at you.  _

_ “Vwhat’re you doin’ out here?” _

_ “Hm… Hello, Cronus. I’m relaxing. How has your day been?” _

_ “My day’s been pretty good.” He sits next to you on the wall. “Uh… You mind if I sit vwith you?” _

_ Yes, you do mind. But you smile anyway and nod, saying “Of course, please make yourself comfortable.” He smiles and settled himself with his back to the same tree, your shoulders touching. Cronus tips his head back and smiles. However your look at it, the morning is beautiful. It’s around nine a.m., a few soft clouds drifting lazily across the skies. For once, you don’t really feel like talking, so you and Cronus just sit there. _

_ Soon enough, the silence is broken by Mituna’s yells. _

_ “Sollluuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuucth!” Both you and Cronus jolt up, watching as he runs past you. He has his arms stretched out, running fast towards Sollux, whom you just now notice is walking down the road. _

_ “It’th dad, it’th dad!” Sollux stops in his tracks, then runs to meet Mituna. _

_ “MT? What happened to him?” _

_ Mituna’s stuttering, frantically trying to get words out. You stand up, going to try to calm him down. Walking up to him, you gently pat his shoulder, whispering ‘shhh…’ as he waves his arms. _

_ “There’s no need for this, not only are you further triggering yourself with these antics, you run the risk of possibly bothering and/or triggering those around us, Mituna. Please try to calm yourself.” _

_ Mituna shakes you off, grabbing Sollux’s hand. _

_ “The queen, the queen! He hath Dad!” Sollux pulls away from Mituna, glaring a little. _

_ “Mituna, we don’t even have a queen!” He turns to walk back where he came from, before suddenly whipping back around. “Not the Propthpit queen!?” Mituna nods, frantically flapping his arms. _

_ Sollux grabs Mituna’s arm and tears off down the road. You stand where they were, close to Cronus, who hadn’t spoken. He normally would fire off something rude to Mituna, and you would say something about that, but he hadn’t spoken much at all this morning. Or even lately, some to think of it. You turned, looking him up and down. He tips his head to the side, looking back. He has a grey streak in his hair, something you hadn’t noticed before. The shirt he wears has small greyish triangles on the short sleeves. _

_ “Are you alright?” It’s rather difficult to limit yourself to those few words, but you do, clipping them out of what would normally be a flood of carefully censored words. Cronus blinks, clearly surprised at the soft utterance. _

_ “Yeah… I am.” He replies just as softly, one hand rising to grip his other arm. It’s pretty easy to see that he isn’t, really. You take a step forward, mindful of his personal space. He doesn’t step back, or tense up, but you keep in mind that you shouldn’t move towards him any more, out of respect for his personal space. _

_ “Cronus? Are you sure?” Your tongue itches to say more, and you bite down on it, exhaling through your nose. “You seem troubled. I don’t mean to trigger you by asking, or pressing, but-” _

_ “I’m gonna be king.” _

_ His voice is still soft, but he says the words with a sense of dread, and you feel it, stepping closer although your good sense tells you to respect the other’s boundaries. _

_ “King, well, you are the son of the king, as it goes.” _

_ He shakes his head. “I don’t v-want to be king, I don’t v-want that life.” His hand is tight around his arm, and he’s staring down at the ground. “I hav-wen’t thought of it in a v-while, but it’s v-who I am, there’s no v-way around it, I’m bound to liv-we that life!” His mouth is curled; it’s plain to see that he hates the thought of ruling Derse. Your house specifically is close to the border, but during the great split, your father told you that him and his mother, him at the time being very young, were forced to flee over that line. The Condense was young at the time, maybe fourteen or fifteen. It’s pretty hard to believe that someone so young managed to rebel to the point here she broke away from an entire kingdom, began her own mini-empire, conquered surrounding lands and is at this very moment waging war against this kingdom. _

_ You take the hand that’s clenched around his sleeve in both of yours. His hand is bigger than yours, fingers long and thin. Your own hands are smaller, and he looks down at the hand clasped in between them. He smiled a little. _

_ “There’s nothin’ I can do, Kankri.”  _

_ You name, coming from his lips, seems like the quiet utterance of a ghost. He releases your hands, shaking his free, and turns to walk off. You feel strange, and for a moment, you don’t realize what it is. But when you open your mouth, you realize that it’s a complete loss of what to say.  _

_ “Cronus!” You squawk. He turns around, head tilted. _

_ “I’ll be there for you!” You’re too loud, and your words seem stilted. But he smiles, and you do too, despite yourself. He jumps forward, hugging you. _

_ “Let me go! You should never hug someone who’s touch-related triggers you don’t know! You never know what you might trigger in them, a panic attack, or even a full-on mental breakdown! Please be a little more considerate and thoughtful, Cronus!” _

_ He releases you. He was stronger than you thought. He stares at you for a moment before breaking into loud laughter. _

_ “Kan… Kankri… I v-wanna get you a v-whistle-!” He wheezes. You cross your arms. _

_ “You most certainly will not!” He’s still laughing, and you glare. “Stop laughing!” _

_ He only laughs harder. _

٠ ٠ ٠

_ You yank your younger brother along, but he’s quicker, and soon he’s the one dragging you. _

_ “Mituna! Where did they take him!?” Sollux shrieks at you as you run. _

_ You watched as The Empress’ guards dragged him away in chains, blindfolded and struggling. You were just coming up the path, carrying your skateboard, and intent upon showing him and telling him about Latula. He’d met her, seen her around, but he didn’t know anything about you and her being together. Today had been the day you were going to let him know, per Sollux’s request. _

_ “I don’t know!” Your tongue catches on your teeth, forcing your words out with a hiss. He stops, screeching to a halt. _

_ “Then why did we even thtart running!?” You stop as well, feeling helpless and frantic. _

_ “Fuck, Thol, I don’t know, I--thit!” You flap your arms agitatedly. Sollux squeezes your arm, forcing you to stop. He‘s panting, but not as badly as you. Sitting down on the ground with a thump, his knees hit the dirt as well.  _

_ “Do you know where they took him” _

_ “They jutht dragged him away… I thould’a done thumthin’ Thol…” You feel the hot beginnings of tears in your eyes, and you choke a little. “They had him in chainth, Thol, fuck…” _

_ Your younger brother’s eyebrows are drawn in, and his mouth set in a line. You can’t tell if he’s thinking deeply or if he’s mad. You‘ve never been good at reading people’s emotions. You frown a little more, feeling more helpless than you ever have in your life. Two tears roll down your cheeks, and you hiccup. He glances up, and his mouth turns down. _

_ You’re sitting with your ass to the dirt, building sobs rising in your chest. “Fugg…” You try to say, but you suddenly can’t stop crying. “Thol, I thouda done thomthin, I thould’dve…!” Sollux hugs you tightly in a moment of love, and you grab his shoulders; you wail into his shirt. _

_ “Fuuuuuuuuck…” Sollux just nods and keeps hugging you. _

_ “You couldn’t have done anything, it’th okay.” He lets go of you, shaking his arms. “You got thnot all over me…” You smile, teeth digging into your lower lip.  _

_ “Thorry.” you scrub your arm into your face, standing up. _

_ “Let’th find thome more people, who might’a seen thomething ath well... Maybe KK or LT will be uthefull.” _

_ You nod, and he nods back, turning to keep walking. _

٠ ٠ ٠

_ Miles away, a thin strip of skin falls to the floor, accompanied by a splatter of blood.   _

_ Psiioniic is prevented from screaming.  _

٠ ٠ ٠


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally, the next chapter is out! I'm trying to go in deeper and explore character relationships more with this one. More tensions, is an explosion due? I have no plans to stop this Polar Expresswreck!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy new year~!!
> 
> -CC

You stalk away from Serket, fuming. Your subordinates never fail to put you in a foul mood. Your garments include a cape, and you take it in your fists, pulling it around you tightly. Your boots thump softly as you slow your walk, already around several corners. The castle is quiet. You devoted funds to build your army, instead of lavishing yourself with riches the way other rulers have done.

The Prospitian Empress is still ahead. A few days ago you were discussing a gift of peace to send to her, hoping for a chance to parlay. Now, with the recently acquired info, you’re… a little more inclined to battle. Plans to attack your lands by the next couple of days. The queen always was a backstabber, from what you’ve read in your father’s account. He fought in the war during the great split, and he kept proper accounts of his actions and the events that transpired.

 

“...The Condescension, as she calls herself now, has raised herself an army and gained support from both the lands-- which is understandable considering her army and influence… But among my own ranks, soldiers have defected to “Prospit’s” army, joining the fight against their former leader... Makara’s been quieter, even he seems to realize that some solidarity is necessary in the fight against this uprising. His sons, however… Loud, upstart, intrusive rubbish…”

 

Your father’s words are clear in your head. There’s something driving you, forcing you to look to him as a figure you must become. You’ve read the angled script in his personal journal countless times, tracing the faded ink on the worn, yellowed paper. It seems you’re more like him than you remember being, a love of strategy prominent in the way you run your kingdom and army.

You realize you’ve been standing there staring at the ground, lost in thought. Looking up, you blink the feeling away and sniff, rubbing your nose with a knuckle. Winter is on its way.

٠ ٠ ٠

I’m Terezi Pyrope, and I can see into the  ~~ futures  ~~ future

I’m Terezi Pyrope, and I  ~~ can see into the futures future  ~~ receive prophetic dreams

~~ I’m Terezi Pyrope ~~ My name is Terezi Pyrope, and I  ~~ can see into the futures future  ~~ receive prophetic dreams

~~ I’m Terezi Pyrope My name is Terezi Pyrope , and I can see into the futures future receive prophetic dreams ~~

After scratching all of that out, you lick the piece of scarlet chalk in your hand contemplatively. You’ve been thinking about putting your thoughts down into this note, to keep record of your sights and to be more useful, but instead you’ve become embroiled in how to begin this keeping. Maybe chalk isn’t the best medium to use on fine paper like this, but you’re enamored.

Putting the chalk down, you push up your glasses and take a deep sniff of the air. You’re blind, making your way around the world with a cane and a sharp sense of smell.

Receiving prophetic visions of the future while you sleep, you’ve been of some use to the king in this war. You don’t really like Eridan, but he makes use of his army and the last battle was successful enough. You live in a tower, free to lay back and gaze at the sky. Even if you don’t see anything, it still calms you. Your sight isn’t all the way gone, you can still sense light and darkness through the thick film covering your sight. The soft glow of starlight is soothing.

You lost your sight at a young age, and your guardian taught you to “see” your way about with your nose, your sense of smell. You can barely remember the way things looked, but it doesn’t bother you too much. You still see your dreams and visions.

Sometimes it’s a bit hard to separate the two, but you manage. Standing up, you snatch your cane and, maneuvering around the stuffed dragons on the floor, slip out the door and promptly fall down the long staircase to the bottom of your tower.

٠ ٠ ٠

You’re walking back to your own quarters, mulling over the information given to you by the king. He kept the papers for himself, the little shit, so you can’t look over the actual information.

As his strategist, you should be having full access to new information the king receives from Sollux, the agent he sends into the other side’s ranks. The guy’s good, you have to hand it to him. He’s managed to get information from the queen herself. He’s definitely proved himself as a valuable asset to th-

“VRISKA LOOK OUT-!!!”

You’re suddenly bowled over by a red and teal blur. You strike the ground hard, and there’s a flash of pain and light before everything goes dark.

 

You come back to life slowly, your head spinning and everything dark and muddled.

There’s a shadow over you, twitching and fluctuating. It leans towards you, and your head pounds. It’s… Terezi! Your eyes snap all the way open, and you jerk upright. You hit her head-on, and fall back down. “Ghhh…!”

Your vision pops in and out for a few seconds before you slowly push yourself back up into a sitting position.

“Shiiiiiit…” Terezi’s holding her nose, leaning forward. Drawing her hand away, there’s a bright red stream flowing from one nostril. Blinking tears out of her eyes, she leans over and swats at you.

“Asshole!” Her hand catches you on the side of the head, sending stars and pain flashing through your vision. You flop back, momentarily stunned. After all--

“You landed on me!” She frowns, blind eyes narrowing.

“That wasn’t my fault, you were walking and I fell down the stairs!”

You growl at her, head thudding once with pain. Standing up shakily, you weave for a moment before falling forward. Terezi catches you, scrambling on to her feet in time. You lean against the wall, and she slowly lets go, brushing one hand across the counter to bump against a glass of water and pick it up. She hands it to you, and you automatically bring it to your lips, drinking it. It’s cold.

“I knocked you out for a moment there.”

“No shit.”

She growls at you. “I’m trying to be civil.” She clenches one fist. “It’s not my fault the stairs here are built stupidly close to the door.”

You frown at her, flipping her off with your free hand. She hears the rustle of fabric and glares.

“You better not have flipped me off.”

“And if I did?”

“Then you can leave, and make your way down the stairs yourself.”

Your lip curls again, and you set the glass down with a thump.

“I will.”

“Good!” Terezi pushes her way through those ridiculous stuffed dragons strewn all over the floor to open the door. “Go!”

You hiss at her as you walk past her out the door. Bearing the shame of supporting yourself on the wall for a second in light of her blindness, you descend three steps.

She calls after you, “And Vriska? You make a nice soft landing pad.”

You snarl “Bitch.” And leave with that hanging in the air. Distantly you hear her slamming the door shut behind you and locking it with a resounding click.

 

“Marquise! I have you now!”

“Not today! My ship carries me to safety!”

“Well, my dragon burns your ship to the ground!”

“I leap from my ship to fight you head-on!”

“I’ll kill you this time!”

“Redglaaaaare!”

Two wooden swords clash in the air, one in your hand, and the other in your best friend’s. Right now, your are the Marquise Spinneret Mindfang, and you’re a dashing pirate, ready to slay the vision of justice and truth that is Redglare! She comes at you again, slashing up, and you jump back, bonking her on the head with your weapon. AND DOWN SHE GOES! 

“Vriskaaaaaaaaa! No fair!” She yells up at you. 

“Too bad, ‘rezi! I’m a pirate and I don’t play by the rules!”

She stands up, grinning at you. She’s always smiling, whether it be a smirk, or a full-toothed brin like she’s giving you now.

“You’re gonna get it!” She picks up her sword, ended with a dragon’s head, and rushes at you again, laughing. You sidestep it, running back to the rocks that you two play around. Clambering on top of them, you crow, “Now I’m on my ship, and you can’t get me!

Terezi jumps up onto the rock next to it, picking up a white dragon plushie with red eyes that had been knocked aside. “Dragon Pyralspite, fly me to the ship!” She leaps to your rock, barely making it. You grab her hand and pull her on, giggling. She slashes at you with her sword, catching your side and throwing you off the stone.

“Gyaaaaaaaaaaah! You’ve wounded me!” Your hat falls off and the feathers wave.

“Now I have you! Have at thee, dastardly pirate!” She lands in the sand over you, raising her weapon above her head. The razor-sharp edge glints in the sunlight over the ocean, a fierce gleam in her red eyes.

The ocean behind you two is dyed red and gold with the colors of your burning ship, the huge dragon beating its wings atop the ragged cliffs dropping down to plunge into wildly breaking waves.

Terezi leans down to grin grotesquely widely in your face. 

“Any last words, Marquise?” She digs the point of her gleaming sword under your chin, a drop of blood accompanying a stab of pain running down your throat. 

You look up, the blade forcing your head back. Choking a little on the blood in your mouth, it runs down the side of your chin as you hiss out four words-- “You wish they were.” And kick straight up.

The toe of your boot strikes the small of her back, and she tips forward, arms rocketing back and pinwheeling madly to keep her balance. You take the opportunity, roll, and snatch your sword where it fell a few feet away. Pushing yourself to your feet, you raise your own hooked sabre, laughing. “You can’t kill me!”

Redglare roars and charges you, sword raised high above her head. You bend, digging three limbs into the sand to propel yourself forward, growling. You both leap at the same time, swords raised high and hair whipping in the sudden wind. You stab upwards into her stomach, she brings her sword down with the tip aimed right for your eye--

“Girls! Snack time!”

You both drop your wooden swords, Terezi grabbing her plushie and you your hat, running to get the apple slices Miss Dolorosa has for you.

٠ ٠ ٠

Your hands are tired from clacking away at the keys of your typewriter all day, and you push back your stool, noticing for once how sore your back and neck are. You lean back, stretching, and come back lightheaded enough to make you tip forward, clutching at the edge of your desk for stability.  You don’t even know how long you’ve been writing, lost in a world of your own creation. 

Leaving your room, you’re almost startled at how dark it’s gotten. Slipping softly down the cold wooden stairs, the quiet creaks made louder by the silent air.

Kanaya is asleep on the couch, fabric spread over her knees.  You gently pull it away from her, not wanting her to prick herself with the silver needle swinging from the long black thread. Holding the cloth at an arm’s length, it sweeps the ground and you realise it’s a dress. The material is light, a pale lavender the color of your eyes draped like wings over a heavier black forming the skirt. It looks nearly completed, the thread hanging from a piece of lace bordering the neckline.

It hits you, all at once, that you’ve been neglecting her. 

You’ve stayed in your room, surrounded by your potions and your stories, and Kanaya’s been perfectly compliant, bringing you food and buying you drinks, catering to your every whim.

She’s been busy, running her business, and as you look around, pivoting where you stand, you see many new dresses and displays out, a table moved here, two bolts of fabric there, and empty bottles over there. They’re your bottles. Setting the dress, so clearly made for you, down, you walk over to them, your bare feet papping the floorboards. Picking one up, you turn it around to inspect the label. Gingerly, you raise it to your nose and sniff it, the remainder of the liquid inside strong. She deserves better than someone who will cause her nothing but an empty wallet and give her nothing in return but a few scattered kisses and smiles.

She deserves better than you. You pick up three more bottles, and then two more, carrying them outside to line them up on the low stone wall, only to whip around and strike at them with your foot, sending them flying into the grass. You march back inside to grab more of them, throwing them as far as you can. Your foot throbs with how hard you kicked it.

You hurl more, stopping after a few minutes. Your fingers hurt. The night is cold. You turn, sitting down on the rough rocks making up the short wall bordering the streets of the town. You pull one leg up, thinking quietly. The stone hurts your bare foot, but you don’t really notice or care. You’ve been growing more distant from Kanaya, slipping into bed with her long after she’s come to your room and kissed you goodnight. You hadn’t even noticed how much had changed around the boutique. You’ve been so wrapped up in your work.

And what are you even doing!? You sit all day, clattering at your keys and discarding papers, mixing chemicals, taking notes, drinking your creations and what Kanaya buys for you, writing your stories and meditating when the words do not come.

You hear voices, sometimes. Whispers. They’re so quiet.

They spill words into your mind, vowels and syllables you at first couldn’t make sense of.

But they’re starting to get clearer, pictures of oddly shaped characters wisping behind your closed eyelids. You’re beginning to understand what they say. Your stories are sometimes only what they tell you.

Standing up, you don’t bother going back inside. You hadn’t considered doing this yet. Walking into the centre of the town with your hands behind you, you push open the door to the library and step inside, wandering back, up stairs, down a hallway, and into the room of ancient tomes. Perhaps the dusty, leatherbound books will hold some lore of old to answer your questions.

Kanaya doesn’t cross your mind.

٠ ٠ ٠

You wake up an hour or so after you sat down. Looking around for the dress you were finishing up, you notice the bottles stacked in a corner are gone, and the door is open.

“Rose?”

Standing, you cross the room and look out the door into the night. She’s not there. You walk out, seeing nothing. Huffing, you walk up the stairs to Rose’s workroom. 

Opening the door, you glance in. “Rose, please close the door when you--” 

She’s not here either. 

You trace back a ways, walking to the bedroom and checking there as well. Then the bathroom. Still nothing. You’re beginning to get rather worried. Running back down the stairs, you think quickly as you pull on your shoes.

“Rose! Rose, where have you gone?” You call as you shut the door behind you and run out down the street to the village. It’s far too cold out here.

٠ ٠ ٠

Closing the book, you set it down. You roll over, wrapping your arms around yourself and squealing, high and quiet. The timing is “perfect”. Terezi bursts through your door. Well, maybe not bursts, but she opens the door to your bedroom fast enough to make you jump. She crawls onto your bed.

“Karkaaaaaat, mόn cherry!” She leaps next to you, with her face buried in your bedding. You glare, no malice behind the look. The pun is kind of cute, not that you would ever tell her that.

“What’s wrong?” You flop back a little, sighing softly.

“It’s Vriska again…” She’s shaking a little. When she raises her head, you can see how tightly her jaw is clenched. “I hate her so much.”

You scoot over, and nudge her, directing her to the empty spot. “What happened?”

She growls, slamming her fists down on the covers. “I fell and accidentally knocked her out from my tower. Then, after I drag her upstairs, she wakes up, gives me a bloody nose by slamming her head into my face, and then, we get into a fight and she storms away and Karkat I can’t believe how nasty she is!” She folds her arms roughly across her chest.

You stare at her for a second. “You two… Didn’t you used to be best friends?” It’s a risk, asking her while she’s upset, but if she’s in a sharing mood she might as well spill some more. You lean your head against her shoulder, and her hand comes up to scratch behind your ear, the way you like. You couldn’t ever tell her, but you have… a small crush. Maybe a little more than small. 

“Yeah. She and I were best friends back when we were kids.” The corners of her mouth turn down.

“...What happened to drive a wedge in between you?”

Her hand comes up to rub the bridge of her nose, mumbling, “Still hurts where she hit me…"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm lowkey thinking of changing the name of this fic... Any suggestions? Put them in the comments below!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few strings are lengthened, and knots are tied tighter. What pushed to the edge the catastrophe of three years ago has only just begun for our tale in the past. Where is Rose? And the yet unanswered question... What happened to drive a knife in between Sollux and Eridan? Why such animosity today?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //Quick warning for, uh, panic attacks. [tw]

It’s getting late, and you… cannot seem to find your way home to your bedroom.

 

You are Eridan Ampora, ascended to the throne after a two deaths, commander of a fearsome army and one of the most successful kings this country has had. You’re lost in your own castle.

 

Turning around once more, you glance around at the darkened hallway and faded paintings hanging there. You frown, hunching into yourself slightly. It’s cold, winter is coming. Giving up for the moment, you touch your back to the wall, sliding down until you’re seated. Your cloak bunches at your rear as you pull your legs up. You tuck your face into your arms in a moment of weakness, letting all the air in your lungs out with a heavy sigh.

 

Running a kingdom on the brink of full-blown war is fucking stressful.

 

Staying in that position, you reach up and tangle your fingers in your hair, out of habit. You let your mind wander. Condescension’s attack has definitely smashed any possible tries at parlay to offer some possible treaty. You fall forward, but push yourself back, resting your head against the wall.

 

You let out a soft hum, listening to the echo whisper through the abandoned hallway. You’re not even sure how you got down here, you were lost in thought and suddenly realized you didn’t recognize the cold stone walls or the ancient paintings. You stand up to look at those paintings.

 

The one above you depicts a small girl in a green dress seated on a swing on a weeping willow. Raising yourself up onto your toes, you take a deep breath and blow lightly across the canvas, clearing off some of the dust coating it. It’s even more beautiful without the blanket of dust, the colors brighter and the lines clearer. You smile slightly, the girl looks like one of your old friends. Nepeta. Your smile fades, remembering how she died.

 

She had been small, smaller than average for her age. She didn’t hang out with Sollux, Mituna, Cronus and Latula, she normally stuck with Equius and Horuss, although her older sister, who you haven’t seen in at least four years, ran with the Makaras. Maybe she’s dead. You wouldn’t be surprised, given the Makara family’s habit of killing their servants and familiars.

 

The Makaras. You haven’t given them thought in weeks, probably, and luckily they haven’t created any trouble lately. Even in your own kingdom, you seem to have enemies. The kingdom of Prospit, the Makara family, you’re in between a cliff and a rabid dog.

 

You can hold the dog as long as possible, but eventually it looks like they might try to rise against you. You know they still carry a deep grudge against your family for the duel against your father and even farther back. You’re not even sure when it all started, and they probably don’t know either.

 

Dualscar managed to severely wound old Highblood, driving a single shot from your now-inherited rifle, Ahab’s Crosshairs, into his shoulder. From what you know, his arm now swings at his waist, useless.

 

On the other side, you have the growing threat of Condescension’s army, she somehow seems to be gaining support even now. Her young daughters, one, you understand, as old as you, are set to take the throne when she dies, continuing the barrage against you. She captures soldiers from your ranks, forcing them to work for he on pain of death or worse.

 

You’re trapped on both sides, one potentially plotting to tear you from your throne and undo all that you’ve built, your kingdom and legacy. Then you have the growing threat of complete fucking annihilation from a rival kingdom, stronger every minute.

 

“Fuck.” you huff, sliding down again, with a hand to the wall. Your breathing has sped up slightly, and your vision is blurry. Closing your eyes, you huff, pressing a hand to your forehead and clenching your teeth. Maybe the stress is getting to you. Maybe-- You press both hands to your eyes, ripping off your glasses. You suddenly feel sick, hunching over onto yourself and trying to breathe; it’s like you feel invisible pressure all around your body, squeezing around your throat. Can’t do this. _Can’t do this._

 

“Fk- fuh…” you grit out, feeling in your legs fading to pins and needles. Lungs contracting, you struggle to draw breath, sharp little gasps becoming quicker.

 

٠ ٠ ٠

 

Your assignments come in quick and sharp from both sides of the war, so you’re kept on your toes collecting information. Last time, you were sent to investigate the frontsmen officers’ desks, and bring back any papers that might seem relevant to current events and possibly upcoming ones.

 

You often carry papers with you, and good pens in case something is too noticable lost to bring back. The actual documents are much better to bring back, seeing as there’s always the possibility of there being invisible ink or texture codes embedded in the paper. You have chemists who can deconstruct the chemical makeup of the ink and reveal hidden words, along with create new and improved inks for Derse.

 

Walking down the empty hallways of Derse Castle, you methodically swing your bag. It’s high time you went back home to visit Mituna, you’re starting to get a little worried. As you do. It’s been a few days. Now, you’ve got to see what you can find at Serket’s desk. Condescension knows you’re close to the king and his men. Your closeness with both rulers is why they each chose you for the job. You do your job well.

 

You can feel the beginnings of a manic phase in your head, small tingles of _faster, faster!_ but for now, you take a deep breath, releasing it in a huge sigh. Taking off your red and blue goggles, you rub at the bridge of your nose, smiling slightly at the release of tension in your shoulder as your other hand squeezes your neck.

 

Leaning back against the wall, you’ve gone pretty deep into the castle. Things are starting to look dustier, and the halls are clear of maids cleaning things or putting things away.

 

Ampora had to do a lot of rearranging in staff to be able to run the army and castle, kingdom, smoother and more cost-efficiently. So things get progressively less neat and shiny the deeper you go, and dust films softly over surfaces.

 

Scratching idly at the back of your neck, you consider the layout of the castle. It’s old, dating back to the first rulers of the land. Made of stone, it stretches maybe a mile and a half including the walls and grounds. It goes deep into the ground, as well, meant to be able to house a whole town if need be, in case of a war. Whatever you have to say about the rulers of the old times, they certainly had the foresight to prepare for a full-scale war. You can respect that. Ampora too.

 

Turning a corner as you continue walking, you’ve gone pretty deep into the castle. It’s not as big as some palaces, but the twists and turn made to deter invaders and thieves serve their purpose spectacularly. This hallway is longer, with dusty paintings hanging in faded frames. Ampora crouches under one.

 

You do a double take.

 

Coming forward a few steps, you narrow your eyes. He’s barely moving, facing away from you and on his knees. Both hands pressed to his temples, you can see that sharp breaths he’s trying to take, clearly hyperventilating, or at least very close to it.

 

Nearing him, you see his eyes are pressed tightly shut, lips moving soundlessly. You’ve had panic attacks before, and calmed Mituna, so you lightly brush your fingers against his shoulder, clearing your throat. You hate him, but you’re not going to leave him to suffer like this. He doesn’t notice, so you mumble a quiet “hey”.

 

He jerks away from you suddenly, choking slightly. You follow, not knowing whether or not he noticed you or the touch “King? Thir?”

 

He doesn’t react,

 

You kneel by his side. “Ampora? Can you hear me?” Pausing before you let your hand settle on his shoulder, you lower your voice. “...Eridan?” He huffs, looking up shakily through his hands. You relax slightly, touching his shoulder. “Can you hear me?” you ask again.

 

“Yeah,” He responds slightly hoarsely after a moment. You stay by his side. He slowly relaxes, dropping his hands. Your thumb twitches, dragging over the material of his shoulder. “Deep breath?” you suggest.

 

He sighs, coughing a few times. You keep stroking his shoulder. After a minute or so, you stand up, and offer him your hand. He shakily takes it, and you pull him to his feet. He leans back against the wall, quickly rattling his head from side to side.

 

He frowns slightly, looking up at you. Opening his mouth, he appears to think for a moment before closing it. You turn, the moment growing heavy. Walking away, your hand prickles slightly as you almost hear a muttered ‘...thank you’.

 

٠ ٠ ٠

 

“Rose!”

Your feet patter the ground as you quickly dash through the town, calling your lover’s name. You’ve been searching for half an hour already, and your anxiety is running high.

 

Turning around, you stumble and fall, catching yourself as you tip backwards. With a sigh, you sit down. Laying back without a thought for your dress, you sigh, a headache pulsing behind your temple. What had led to this? Crossing your feet, you reflect on your relationship. You two haven’t exactly been very functional. Painfully, you realize it is both of your faults. She grew to look upon you as a simple maid or an object even, and you said nothing, complying and smiling along. Encouraging her growing alcoholism and negligence.

 

You raise your arm to wipe at your face, before the tear could find its way to your hair.

 

Standing back up, you make up your mind. You’ve been known your whole life for making good decisions, and thinking clearly. Now is the time for that to come into play. You’ve got to use your head and talk to her.

Putting your hand together, you think on where she may have gone. She may have been inebriated by her own drinks, for you don’t remember buying any, and might have been seeking… You’ve only been walking the streets, quietly calling her name, so she can’t be out on the roads…

 

You facepalm. The library! Where the hell else would Rose have gone!? Turning and setting off in a jog, you try not to think about what you will say or how she will answer.

 

٠ ٠ ٠

 

_Neither of you liked the other, from the beginning. His brother teased yours, and you were both smushed together because of how your friend groups interacted. One of a few notable agreements that stuck in your head was your united hatred of Kankri. Neither of you could stand to listen to his monologuing, but you at least tried to pay him SOME attention, out of a muffled sense of pity. Cronus, first in line for the throne, often hung around him._

 

_For some reason._

 

_“Eridan!” You yelled, running down the hill towards him. He’s almost as well known in the the town as Cronus, to the chagrin of the king. He meets you halfway, glaring. “What!? Don’t yell my name like that!”_

 

_You throw a punch, hitting his shoulder, and he growls and slaps your hand away. “Don’t touch me, I’m higher than you!”_

 

_You stand up. “I’m taller! I don’t care that you’re a printhe!” He pushes you, and you smack his face. The two of you go down into the dusty road, and Eridan shrieks pettily about his clothes while you grab your ever-present goggles to smack him with. A few more seconds of this scuffle before hands suddenly pull you away. Ah, it’s the very symbol of calm rage, Kanaya. She, none too gently, hauls you to your feet. “You are messing up my mom’s display!” She gestures to a sign and wreath you’ve knocked over._

 

_“Thit, thorry.” Neither of you want to make her madder, so you and Eridan pull up the sign and fix the flowers before bowing out and absconding with your lives. “Language!” She calls out after you._

 

_She and her mother and sister come from a different land, evident by their darker skin and accents. Her mother might actually be her grandmother but you don’t know. She adopted Karkat’s father when he was a kid, though, so she might be older than she looks? You shake your head. Whatever._

  


_Panting slightly, you came to a stop a few blocks away. Turning to Eridan, you open your mouth, but before you can say anything, he says, “W-what w-was so important that you had to run me ower for?”_

 

_“...” you’re not sure how to say it._

 

_“Well?” Eridan looks at you impatiently._

 

_“...Your brother. I thaw him.”_

 

_He glares. “I see him ewery day, to my chagrin.”_

 

_“No! He wath… Kithhing. Kankri.”_

 

_The expression on his face drops, and for a few second he just stares at you, seemingly lost for words._

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please for the love of everything good and holy, comment what you think? Yall like it? Tell me! It only serves at motivation and fuel for the next chapter and furtherment of the story! CC out!


	8. Chapter 8

_ "I kadishtu fib’th..." _ The words roll from your tongue, and you recoil at the sensation they give you. It’s the same language you hear in your dreams, and now, sitting over an slim, ancient book filled with the strange symbols, you feel an eerie familiarity to the curved symbols. 

 

Tracing your fingers delicately over the words, you turn the thin page and find a section of verse. Your lids droop slightly, almost readying yourself, and it’s almost like your mouth opens on it’s own. 

 

_ “Jho yar grah’n tis eaon't gainet, _

 

_ t't path tis glukyjho lie't fu t't forin--”  _

 

You break off, coughing, but you can barely draw another breath before your tongue twists and you’re speaking again. 

 

_ “Awaken yourself tis t't ph'bl nge futcome more _

 

_ ya embrace h’t! Ya accept t't glukyjho! fill yj eyes!”  _

 

You gasp for breath, lungs squeezing, and your eyes burn and fill with tears. You didn’t mean to read it, but your mouth moved on it’s own. Your vision goes blank, and you’re granted a merciful second of calm before the universe collapses into your head. 

 

٠ ٠ ٠

 

A bright flash of light illuminates the library windows, white and lavender beaming form the uppermost floor. You stop, eyes growing wide and breath catching in your throat. “Rose…!” you whisper, terrified; then throw open the door and rush up the stairs, scared of what you will find. 

 

Reaching the top of the stairs, you notice the light’s died down to a glow, and it’s emanating from around the corner. Stepping lightly, you brush your fingers against the dusty spines of the books to steady yourself. You can hear faint breaths, and that spurs you to round the shelf and hum a quiet ‘Rose?’

 

She’s sitting with her back turned to you, and the light seems to be coming from her front, her face. Stepping forward, you touch her shoulder gingerly. She doesn’t react, and you kneel down, pressing your hand to her back. “Can you hear me?”

 

“H’t sas’h everywhere... Kanaya?” your brows furrow slightly, and you peek around her shoulder. She feels cold. The light’s still shining. Coming around, you start to say “Yes?” but stop dead. 

 

Her eyes are gleaming, pupil-less, spilling bright, pale light over her ashen skin. It’s not just pale, it’s  _ grey.  _ The skin of her cheekbones, neck, and, you pull you hand away, shoulders is a dark grey color.

 

“Ya yass seen kov much... dakar sas’h too much…” She shakes slightly. “Ya wa’t scaret…!” 

 

“Rose? What are you saying? Why are you... these... colors?” 

 

“Kanaya? Kanaya?” 

 

You take her hand, and it’s as cold as ice. You frown. “What did you do?” Looking around, you spot the book lying open on the floor in front of her. You carefully pick it up, and take one glance at what’s written there before snapping it shut. You can’t explain, but the sensation it gives you is so  _ wrong,  _ so twisted and  _ lacking, _ yet full of something… You don’t want to look at it again. You slide the book away. 

 

“That book…” 

 

She recoils.  You drop downs, taking her chill face gently in your hands. “Ya 've seen kov much, Kanaya... Ya kadishtu more shruggot anyone rrmp ever bimike tis kadishtu, yj eye't hurt, f’t fm’latgh…” 

 

You are… fucking terrified, to say the least. 

 

“The call…” She whispers, suddenly glaring at you; stands up and walks to the window before gleaming softly and disappearing. You shriek, dashing to the widow, throwing it open. 

 

“Rose!?” nothing has ever confused or infuriated you more. Your eyes fill with hot tears and you glare at the book, cursing Rose for her boundless curiosity... and willingness to sacrifice anything,  _ anyone _ for answers.

 

Slowly pushing open your door, you clench your fist before slamming it into the wall, a thin crack spearing through the wood. You pull back your other fist, punching the wall again. A spear of pain twinges up your arm, and you stop, the sigh that escapes your lips sounding more like a sob even to you. “Rose…” you growl slightly, and turn around, walking over to the couch and dropping onto it, holding your head in your hands. 

 

What was it that changed her like that? Well, obviously the book, but also… you stand up, walking up the stairs and pushing open her door. Walking over to her desk, you rustle through the papers there, looking for something,  _ anything,  _ that resembles what you saw in that book. No need to worry about remembering what you saw, you see it every time you close your eyes. 

 

You see the curve of an unfamiliar letter out of the corner of your eye. Picking up the paper, underneath it is a drawing. It’s almost crude, maybe done half-asleep after a dream. Come to think of it, Rose often stumbled out of bed in the early morning to go to her room. 

 

You throw the paper down, filled with self-loathing. You’ve been ignoring her, too, it’s not just her fault. Reaching under your shirt, you pull up and away a thin chain, laying it on the paper stack. At this point you realize that _maybe_ you two weren’t meant to be. 

 

But she’s still out there. 

 

You sigh heavily, walking back to your room without disturbing anything else. All you want is for her to be by your side, calm and witty, always ready with a quip or a comforting word, a story to tell or a fact to prove. 

 

Like the old times. 

 

You just want your Rose back, and you wish that all of this had never happened. The two of you met as young children, and grew closer over time. Eventually you started confiding secrets, telling each other more, and before you knew it, you were in love. 

 

She first kissed you on a walk, making it to the top of a long staircase (it was a lighthouse, you remember), she gently turned your face to hers and the rest was history. 

 

You soon bought this house, and converted the first floor into a boutique. 

 

It took a lot of work, on both your parts, but eventually, it became home for you both. You’re sobbing without realising it. 

 

٠ ٠ ٠

 

“Captor!” 

 

You turn sightly, and it’s the captain of the intelligence department. He’s wearing a tight, fur-lined coat and walking towards you at a brisk pace. 

 

“Sir?” 

 

He hands you a paper, and you unfold it to see your next assignment. It’s to get close enough to the queen herself, to be able to pilfer or copy documents from her desk directly. 

 

Well, if that isn’t the most obnoxiously difficult mission he’s given you yet. Not to mention you’re still on a retrieval for Condy right now. 

 

Well, whatever, looks like you’ll have something to trade in for what you’re bringing out. 

 

Looking up, you say, “As soon as possible, Sir.” he nods and turns to walk away. 

 

You let your face lose its composure, settling down into a frown, annoyed at the disparity of your situation. Mituna’s still at home, and you need to check on him and get more food. 

 

Walking as you plot, you consider timing. You’ll need to get in and get what you can from Eridan’s desk. Hopefully something that passes for current events, or even reports on… economy shit. Whatever works. Your work keeps you toeing the line on both sides, so it’s double danger. Then you have to get more food, eat some yourself, and bring the rest back to MT. Enough to keep him going for another few days. 

 

You really, really worry about him. It’s a nagging call in your brain, he’s… clumsy, and his depressive periods lead him to stay in bed for whole days… fuck. Rubbing at your aching temple, you pick up the pace. Right now, there should be one or two people left in the records room, and if you move fast enough, you’ll be home in half an hour. Then, it’s across the border to deliver the papers to Meenah and snatch your consecutive assignment. Meenah’s always the one to collect your assignments, and pay your fee. 

 

Pushing open the door, you give a smile to the tired-looking woman reading over a list of figures. Moving behind a shelf, you look through the books and scrolls to see what might be of value. Peering around, you spot an open scroll of tallies showing where merchants enter and exit the city. You’re pretty sure that they already know where purchasable goods make their way in, but it might spark something leading the war into a favorable direction. 

 

Humming softly, you bow your head until your forehead taps the wood. 

 

You’ve reached a sort of crisis. The war might be dragging on because of you, and for a moment, you feel crushing guilt at your greed. People are  _ dying _ , and you’re doing this for money. 

 

No, you’re doing this for Mituna. Shaking your head, you come around to see that, conveniently, the woman has fallen asleep. Walking softly around her, you lift your paper, teeth digging into your lip as you copy a few trails and sketch out a simple map. Transcribing few more figures, you pull away. Walking to the door, you gently pat her head as almost an afterthought. She sleeps on. 

  
  


Crossing the border separating your two countries, you peer around before dropping your coat to the ground behind a tree and adjusting the straps of your gold-painted bracers. You personally think they’re a bit gaudy, but whatever suits the fancy of the jewel-dripping royalty here. 

 

It takes a while to walk all the way to the palace, and you’re still tired from lack of sleep. 

 

Meenah’s there, as usual. This time, though, she’s got Feferi with her. Feferi, the younger princess, grins and waves at you. You lift a hand in response. Getting closer, you reach for the papers in your shirt. “Got the goodth…!” you drawl. Meenah cheers. 

 

“That’s mah man!” Feferi holds up a hand and you high-five her lightly. 

 

“I don’t have too much, tho don’t ecthpect direct recordth…” you say, handing over the papers. 

 

“Not too shabby,” Meenah comments, looking over the papers. “Nice bracers. It’s a good idea!”

 

You nod in thanks, holding up a hand. “Now…” Feferi hands you a small sack, and from the jingle you hear, it’s not a bad pay. “Thankth,” you call as you turn around to walk off.

 

“Wait, Sollux!” She calls after you. You turn around, a small spike of anxiety zipping through you as you lift an eyebrow in question. 

 

“Recently, Condy’s noticed that… I dunno how to say it? It feels like Ampora’s kinda predicting what we do and countering it.” Your heart skips a beat and pounds on. 

 

“You think they might have a spy, or an agent like me?” you ask. 

 

“Maybe!” Meenah laughs. “Well, just keep your eye out for anyone who knows too much! See you around!” You smile and turn around, finally walking away.

  
  


Paying for the food, you pick up the bag and nod your thanks. Now you’re brother-bound! You’re hoping he hasn’t fuckin’ burned down the place. 

  
  


Pushing open the door, you call brightly, “Tunafish! I’m home!” No answer. Laughing, you set the bag down on the kitchen counter and take off your boots. Running lightly up the stairs, you feel a sense of release from being back at home. 

 

Knocking lightly on his door, it creaks open a little. Grinning, you toss it fully open and run in.

 

Your foot slips on the wet floor and you land on your butt, hard. You groan, flipping over and turning back around, grimacing. “Don’t fuckin’ look, MT--!”

 

The smile freezes on your face, and the breath dies in your throat. You’re kneeling in a pool of blood. 

 

Just in front of you, your brother’s lying with his head split open; dead.

* * *

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hahahaha


	9. Chapter 9

 

_ “Did you hear me?”  _

 

_ Eridan stares at you, seemingly in shock. You repeat what you said.  _

 

_ “I thaid, I thaw your brother kithhing Kankri!”  _

 

_ He snaps out of it, bellowing ‘WHAT!?’. You clap a hand over his mouth, glaring at him. _

 

_ “Thut up, you want the whole threet to hear about the printhe’s entanglement!?” He shakes his head, and you release him. He glares at you in return. “No, I do not. W-where did you see it, anyw-way? I don’t beliewe you.” You stare at him like he’s an idiot.  _

 

_ “What do you mean you don’t believe me?” _

 

_ He turns his nose up slightly. “He’s a prince. In line for the throne. He might fuck around w-with peasants-” -- You interject “You do too!” -- he glares -- “But he w-wouldn’t be in lov-ve w-with anyone! Least of all Kankri!”  _

 

_ You throw up your hands, somewhat exasperated. “ECTHACTLY! THO WHY WOULD I LIE!?”  _

 

_ He takes that point-blank. “...I guess so.” _

 

_ “Ready to lithen without thcreaming every five thecondth, ED?” He sits on the ground, back against the alley wall.  _

 

_ “Go on?”  _

 

_ You sit next to him, pissed because you could have explained this all in a minute without his dramatics.  _

 

_ “They were jutht thitting, okay? On the wall, by the tree, kithhing. That’th all I thaw, ‘cauthe I thped off quick ath fuck when they looked up.”  _

 

_ “They saw-w you!?”  _

 

_ “No, thupid, I ran before they could.” _

 

_ Eridan sits quietly for a moment, growing more serious. Pulling up one leg, he looks over at you.  _

 

_ “So… If w-what you saw-w is real,” -- “Of courthe it ith!” -- “Then… w-what’s gonna happen now-w?” _

 

٠ ٠ ٠

 

_ Sollux tips his head, frowning a little. He sighs. “I dunno. It’th your dad that’th the king, not mine…”  _

 

_ You frown a little, too. “It’s not like Cro can just w-waltz in there and announce his civilian boyfriend.”  _

 

_ Sollux laughs a little. “No, he… Wait, what would happen?”  _

 

_ “He’d probably have them separated, like… Maybe he’d send Kankri to Prospit!” You start laughing, picturing Kankri as a Prospit denizen. “Imagine him trying to lecture them…!” _

 

_ Sollux bursts out laughing. It’s not that funny, but it’s kind of unbelievably hilarious all the same. Kankri probably wouldn’t survive a day in Prospit, he’d be scandalized to death.  _

 

_ “Acthually, what do you know about Prothpit? Your dad’th the king and all.”  _

 

_ You think. “I don’t really know-w much. He kinda doesn’t talk much to us.”  _

 

_ “He doethent? Then how ith he even your dad?” _

 

_ “He’s busy! He’s the king and all!”  You frown, knowing Sollux is at least a little right. “But he does sometimes teach us stuff about strategy and stuff.” _

 

_ “Thrategy?”  _

 

_ “Yeah, like, moving armies, planning battles--” _

 

_ “I know what it ith!” Sollux cuts you off. “But like, hanging out? Did he ever play with you and CR ath kidth?” He didn’t.  _

 

_ “No…?” Sollux rolls his eyes and drops his head down onto your shoulder. “Man, that thuckth.” _

 

_ You nod. “I guess so.” You move your hand up to pat his hair. “Your hair’s soft.” _

 

_ “Ith it?” He pats his own head, and your hand by accident. Grabbing it, he grins at you. “Hey, what if we were together? Your dad would flip hith thit.”  _

 

_ You groan in mock disgust and pull your hand away, smacking him. “Idiot! W-we still don’t ewen know-w if they’re actually a couple.”  _

 

_ “True, but it’th not like I don’t have eyeth.” _

 

_ You smack him again, and he curls up in pain. “Oh, did I actually hurt you?” you ask, bending over him. He uncurls suddenly, headbutting your stomach before running out of the alley laughing.  You have no choice but to yell and chase after him, the sounds of your laughter carrying on the wind. _

 

٠ ٠ ٠

 

“...Tuna?” You crawl forward slightly, gingerly touching his stiff body. He’s facing you, eyes open and face frozen. Crawling through the still-wet, tepid blood pooled on the floor, you gently reach out and touch his face. 

 

“MT, no… Please, this has to be a joke…” looking around slowly, you spot his skateboard upside-down a ways away. “Were you trying to skate? It’s okay, we can get you patched up, just get up, and I can… I can…” you stop. Sitting back, you lean back on your hands. Your head is buzzing. 

 

“Mituna… No…” You pull him onto your lap, cringing at how his hands are stiff against yours. “Not you too, we already lost dad, I can’t…” you sniff, feeling tears start to run down your face. “Mituna!” 

 

Curling over his body, you start crying without regard. The blood’s going to take a long time to clean away. 

  
  
  


Piling on the last branch, you strike the match and let the kindling and dried grass catch fire. Moving around to the other side, you repeat the motion a few times. Stepping back, you watch as your brother’s body burns down to bones and charcoal. It’ll be a few hours. 

 

Striking at the charred bones, you crumble them, breaking them into small pieces and letting them burn some more. After around half an hour, you step back from the small pyre, sighing and looking away. Black blobs move across your vision. You pick up a handful of hot ashes and let the wind blow them out of your hand. You imagine you must look quite picturesque in a way. Scooping up a few more handfuls and tossing them lightly into the wind, you survey the small hill you’re on as you watch the soft grey dust float along the breeze. 

 

When you get home you walk into his room and are immediately sick. 

 

٠ ٠ ٠

 

“How would they have known  _ anything _ about the trade routes?” You slide down, elbow on your desk and face in your hand. “For fuck’s sake, this only makes everything worse!” 

 

“I dunno, sir, but it looks like you need to be doing a better job at guarding your data,” Karkat responds testily. “And move your arms.” 

 

You do, and he dusts your desk vigorously. The tiny amount of dust gathered on a pile of papers is enough to make you sneeze, glasses bouncing slightly. 

 

“Bless you,” Karkat says, looking unimpressed after your third sneeze.

 

The stress of being king is only getting worse as the days tick down to when you know Prospit will launch an invasion. Rubbing the bridge of your nose, you sigh, headache setting in. Prospit blocked off routes not even an hour ago. Routes that were very well hidden and protected, and are relatively new. So...

 

“What do you think?” you say out of the blue, looking at Karkat defeatedly. 

 

“About fucking what?”

 

“The war. What do you think of it. What should I do.” You fall back in your seat slightly, allowing your face to fall into an exhausted expression, mirroring your emotions. Karkat stares at you for a second. 

 

“Well, shit I don’t know, maybe I would have a better grasp on the state of political affairs if I had been allowed to leave the castle in the last two years.” 

He’s got you there. You thump your head on the desk, and he pats your head in what you  _ know _ is not a condescending manner.

 

Sitting up, your slap both hands over your face. “Uggghhhhhhhhh…” 

 

“I agree,” Karkat responds grumpily, walking out of the office and shutting the door stiffly behind himself. You don’t bother going after him. Slumping over onto your desk, you close your eyes and try to block out the re-rising panic. 

 

Fuck. Everything’s going to shit. You stay like that for a moment more before pulling yourself together and standing up to get a drink of water. And take off your crown. That shit’s heavy. 

 

Ruffling your fingers through your hair vigorously, you notice how long it’s getting. The dyed portion in front is fading, and you’re pretty sure that it needs more bleach. Swiping at your chair, you sit back down and think for a moment about what you need to know. Obviously Sollux will play a part, being your agent. He’s expected back at nine-pm tonight. 

 

And he’s never late. 

 

 

An hour later, and it’s 10:34 p.m. and Sollux is nowhere to be found. You stand up from your papers, noticing the time after having spent nearly sixty minutes considering various formations and attack strategies, comparing them to the terrain and Prospit’s known attack modes. There’s ink smeared along your fingers, ad you feel a little more secure, if not hopeful. 

 

Sollux is still missing, though. And you have a bad feeling. Making your way out of your office, the hallway has one small maid trying not to collapse under the suit of armor she’s struggling to stand upright. Walking quickly to her side, you help her push it up, and she sighs a little in relief. “Thanks--” She turns to see who you are, and squeaks loudly. “--Your majesty! I’m so sorry, it’s jus-” you cut her off, saying it’s alright and to get some sleep. She thanks you, curtsying, and trots away. 

 

Distantly, as you turn to walk down the hall, you wonder if you should put your servants through weight training.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> can i request a fuckin uuuuuhhhhhhh CO MM E N TS


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Holy motherFUCK guys, I'm so sorry it took so long! I just... haven't really known what to do with this story for a while. Rest assured, however, that I WILL finish this story and it WILL get a happy ending... sort of! I'm trying to handle writing many character's perspectives. I think if I narrow it down a little bit, I can get the main plot moving a little faster. ALL QUESTIONS WILL BE ANSWERED BY THE END, FEAR NOT!

Vriska scoffs a little. “Are you sure Sollux, literal hired double-agent, can’t make his way back to the castle by himself?” 

 

You finish strapping on your knives. “Of course he can. I hired him for a reason. It’s just that he’s never late, and he may have been captured. As an agent, he’s valuable for more reasons than one. Being caught with Prospitian info could lead to more connections being discovered. And… he’s never been late with info. Ever. To be honest, I’m a little worried.”

 

Vriska sighs, rolling her eyes. “Are you sure that you need to be going out and looking for him?” 

 

You give her a short glare. “I’m not going to be ‘going out and looking for him’, Serket, I’m going to the town to ask around for him. It’s simpler. Less preamble with guards. The townspeople know me well, it’d be good to resurface--it’ll reassure them. And besides, I’ve needed to get out of the castle for a long time.” She doesn’t argue that, so that has to have been a good point. You tighten the straps on your boots, and walk, sweeping your short cape as you do. 

 

“I’ll not be gone for more than two hours or so,” you mutter to Equius. He nods in assent.

  
  


A few minutes later, getting past the guards with a few words, you’re walking towards the town. Mindful of your status, you wore something plain, dark pants with a darker shirt, over it a hip-length cape. 

 

Ducking around buildings, you realise you feel a little better once you’ve gotten out of the castle and away from your work for just a few minutes. 

 

Coming up on the side of a brick building, you are suddenly stuck by deja vu. This is your old friend, Kanaya’s boutique. She took over when her mother passed on, adding her own garments and twists. Unbidden, you smile. It’s been so long. Really only a few years, but it feels like a lifetime given how much has changed. The sign in front hasn’t changed, though. ‘Rosemary’ is chalked in elegant script behind a window, surrounded by beautiful, full gowns on display. You knock on the door. 

 

Kanaya was never your best friend, but she often gave you advice on things, and always spared a moment for you. When she opens the door, she looks a bit shocked to see you. You don’t blame her.

 

“Eridan? Your majesty? I haven’t seen you in--” looking behind you, she frowns. “Is there something you need? Where are your guards?” She looks very tired, with bags under her eyes. Standing to the side, she lets you cross the threshold. She’s redecorated the inside quite a bit, tastefully-placed flowers in the corners of lovely muted walls. Silks are floating in place of drapes. 

 

“So, why have you decided to pay me a visit?” She seems kind of… off. Wary, jittery, her foot’s tapping. You notice a ring on her left-hand finger. “Who’s that from?” you ask, pointing to it and ignoring her question. Her hand quickly goes to it, twisting it where it sits. “Rose. We married a year ago.” 

 

You raise your eyebrows, a pleased feeling humming through you. “I’m happy for you! I take it business is well, and her writing too?” A small smile’s on your face.

 

“Ah--!” Your question clearly caught her off guard, and she’s still for a moment. “She’s actually off on a trip right now. She’s going to be back around a month or so from now.”

 

You raise your eyebrow. “Okay…” you decide not to push the issue further. “I actually came by to ask around for Sollux. He’s never been late in his life, and now he won’t show up to provide the required information.”

 

Kanaya thinks for a moment. “I presume after he got back from… a mission? ...he would have gone home to see Mituna. He has not been home in a while, Mituna has told me.” 

 

You nod. Makes sense. Turning halfway, you thank her before exiting and hopping over the low stone wall, making your way into the woods. It’s summer, and it’s not yet very dark.

٠ ٠ ٠ 

 

Coughing and choking a little, you stand up shakily. You haven’t eaten in a while, so there wasn’t much in you to puke. Walking downstairs in a daze, you gather lye soap and spare linens and fill a bucket with water. Dropping to your knees, you start scrubbing away the dried blood and vomit. 

  
  


Taking off your shirt and stripping down your pants, you pull down your bedding. You pull too hard, and it comes untucked. You step away, holding the loose sheet and blanket. Pulling your goggles off your head, you try to fold them up and put them on your nightstand. You miss and they clatter to the floor. Your don’t care at all.

 

Dragging your sheets onto the bed with you, you pull them over yourself and shut your eyes. Red and blue and red and blue and red and red and red and red red red red red swirl around slowly behind your eyelids, and you don’t remember what happens next. You’re almostcertain you fall asleep.

 

٠ ٠ ٠

 

You pull one knee to your chest, sitting on Eridan’s chair behind his desk. You swivel around in it verrrrrrrry slowly. It’s black leather and wood, four legs, customised with an apparatus that lets the seated spin in it. You slowly pull a hand to your forehead, the unbidden memory coming to mind of waking up in Terezi’s tower after she knocked you out and giving her a bloody nose. 

 

You’re too much of a hardass to admit it, but it wasn’t really her fault. And you were kind of an asshole. You rub your eyes gently, alone for the first time in a while. Leaning back, you let your foot drop and sigh deeply. She offered you water. You knocked it away and cursed her out. You used to play together. You grew up together. Until you threw fire in her eyes and blinded her in a fight.

 

Your mother, Mindfang, who you always pretended to be, you’d read about in books at the orphanage. She was a pirate, and one that was like never before seen. She sailed the oceans in a ship bigger than a whale, striking fear into the hearts of men.

 

Maybe she wasn’t your mother. But you grew up immersing yourself into her stories, idolising her, wanting to be her. You didn’t know or remember your real parents. But you knew they had abandoned you at the orphanage when you were a baby. You modeled yourself after Spinneret from a toddler, cruel, strong, unbending, willful and brave. She felt more like your mother than anyone could ever be. You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, and are filled with shame and fear at the way it catches. 

 

You are Vriska Serket, you are Spinneret Mindfang, you are a Marquise, you are a spider, you are impenetrable, indomitable

 

and 

 

you are so very lonely.

 

٠ ٠ ٠

 


End file.
